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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE LAST OF THEIR RACE</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Last of Their Race" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Annie S. Swan" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1911" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="42926" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-06-12" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Last of Their Race" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Last of Their Race" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="last.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-06-12T16:26:27.635616+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42926" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Annie S. Swan" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-06-12" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-last-of-their-race"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE LAST OF THEIR RACE</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Last of Their Race -<br /> -<br />Author: Annie S. Swan -<br /> -<br />Release Date: June 12, 2013 [EBook #42926] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE LAST OF THEIR RACE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">THE LAST OF -<br />THEIR RACE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY -<br />ANNIE S. SWAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED -<br />LONDON -<br />1911</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="medium">DONALD AND MARY</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">"For ours beyond the gate, -<br />The deep things, the untold, -<br />We only wait."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">Made and Printed in Great Britain for Hodder & Stoughton, Limited</em><span class="small"> -<br /></span><em class="italics small">By C. Tinling & Co., Ltd., Liverpool, London and Prescot.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-indian-mail">THE INDIAN MAIL</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-old-home">THE OLD HOME</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#isla-takes-action">ISLA TAKES ACTION</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-americans">THE AMERICANS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-bridge-builders">THE BRIDGE BUILDERS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hope-of-achree">THE HOPE OF ACHREE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-home-coming">THE HOME-COMING</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#malcolm-s-prospects">MALCOLM'S PROSPECTS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-messenger">THE MESSENGER</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-house-of-woe">THE HOUSE OF WOE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#vivien">VIVIEN</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hand-in-the-dark">THE HAND IN THE DARK</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-passing-of-mackinnon">THE PASSING OF MACKINNON</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#family-counsels">FAMILY COUNSELS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#settling-down">SETTLING DOWN</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-purple-lady">THE PURPLE LADY</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#her-true-friends">HER TRUE FRIENDS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#good-bye-to-glenogle">GOOD-BYE TO GLENOGLE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-london-train">IN THE LONDON TRAIN</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-reality-of-things">THE REALITY OF THINGS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-market-place">THE MARKET PLACE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#mr-and-mrs-bodley-chard">MR. AND MRS. BODLEY-CHARD</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#at-cross-purposes">AT CROSS PURPOSES</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-champion">THE CHAMPION</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-arch-plotters">THE ARCH-PLOTTERS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-lure-of-vivien">THE LURE OF VIVIEN</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-call">THE CALL</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXVIII</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#with-hastening-feet">WITH HASTENING FEET</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XXIX</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-last-leaf-on-the-tree">THE LAST LEAF ON THE TREE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-indian-mail"><span class="large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE INDIAN MAIL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Isla Mackinnon came out from the narrow doorway of -the Castle of Achree, and stood for a moment on the -broad step, worn by the feet of generations, while she -thoughtfully drew on a pair of shabby, old leather gloves -with gauntlets which came well up her slender arms. -Hers were small, fine, capable hands, in which at that -moment, though she knew it not, lay the whole destiny -of Achree. Its very existence was to be threatened that -cool, clear March day, and there was none but Isla to -step into the breach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not look incompetent; nay, about her there -was a fine strength and courage, in her wide grey-blue -eyes an undaunted spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a spirit that had had much to try its quality in -her six-and-twenty years of life, for half of which, at -least, she had been the chief buttress and hope of the -house of her fathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked her age, though her figure was very slender -and straight. The years that had brought her womanhood -had left her the heart of a child. It looked out -from the clear eyes under the delicate lashes, it was in -the slightly downward curves of the small sensitive -mouth that had not had sufficient occasion for smiles -to bring out all its sweetness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hair, under the small tweed hat turned up at the -brim with a pheasant's wing, was a clear brown, with -here and there a touch of the sun inclining it to ruddy -gold. She wore a short skirt of Harris tweed, leather-bound, -and a woollen coat of her own knitting, a pair -of brown brogues well fitted to her shapely feet, and -under her arm she had a shepherd's crook with a whistle -at the end of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently, when its clear, low call broke the stillness -of the morning, three dogs came bounding from some -region beyond the house, betraying a wild excitement -which even her remonstrance could not keep in check.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down, Murdo boy, and don't nip Bruce's ear again, -or back you go to the stable. Janet, you silly old -woman, at your time of life you ought to have more -sense. Well then, off you go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The big deer-hound, the fat, glossy, sable collie, and -the small, wiry Aberdeen lady who rejoiced in the sober -name of Janet, thus admonished, bounded before her -down the drive between the laurel and the pine trees, -barking joyously as was their wont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About fifty yards from the house the carriage-way took -a sharp turn, so that the next few steps hid all except -the cold slate roof and the pinnacles of the little round -towers which mark that particular style of architecture -called the Scottish baronial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old Castle of Achree was considered one of the -best examples of it in the country, and it certainly was -picturesque, if a little "ill-convenient," as the country-folk -had it. It was a large mansion of sorts, but totally -unsuited to the needs of a family and almost completely -devoid of all those modern conveniences which, in these -days, every artisan has at his command.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so cut up by winding stairs and queer little -passages that there was scarcely a room of decent dimensions -within its walls. It was full of legend, of tragic -memories, and did not even lack the ghost, a mailed -and headless warrior who haunted the dungeon-room -where he had been done to death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was whitewashed or harled, but looked sadly in -need of the washer's brush. The rains of many a year -had soddened and discoloured it, while, here and there, -at angles specially exposed, there were green patches -where the moss and lichen clung.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet it made a picture of indescribable beauty, not -untouched with pathos, as the cradle of every great -race must be, its history woven in with its very stones. -People came from far and near to see it, and many -artists had lingered enchanted over its picturesque -detail. It stood on a small, green plateau facing south, -sheltered at the back by the pine-clad hill of Creagh, -which stood, like a sentinel, guarding the great moor of -Creagh that stretched away in the distance till it joined -the lands of Breadalbane towards Loch Tay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the moor of Creagh the Mackinnon property -ended on that side, but it was still a goodly-sized estate, -with shooting of some value, though it had been cut -down to as narrow dimensions as the extravagance of -some of the Mackinnons had dared to cut it. But -never, never had Achree been in such dire straits as now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Isla left the gateway beside the little lodge and -turned down the beautiful road, she lifted her head and -took a long deep breath. For the morning air was good, -though there was a nip of frost in it, and the red sun -lay warm and kindly on the clear summit of Ben -Voirlich, of which, at that point, an exquisite view could -be obtained, though it was in the next few steps lost -again. The ruddy glow was reflected in the clear waters -of Loch Earn, and altogether the scene was one of -incomparable beauty, and it was knit into the very fibre -of Isla Mackinnon's being. It was her home, and the -people were her own. She had known none other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few rare trips to London when her cousins, the -richer Barras Mackinnons, had had a house for the -season, with occasional visits to them at their home in -one of the islands of the western seas, comprised her -whole knowledge of the world outside her own glen. -But beyond that she had neither asked nor desired -anything else. The things she most passionately desired -and prayed for--peace for Achree and decent comfort -in which to live--were denied her. She lived in hope, -however; but this day was to see its utter quenching, -so far as any earthly intelligence could predict.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dogs, gambolling in front, knew their -destination--the Earn village; that is, if they did not meet David -Bain with the post-gig on the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For more than a year now it had been Isla's custom -to meet the postman for the purpose of intercepting any -letters which it might not be wise to let her father see. -In this simple act a great part of the tragedy of Achree -may be apprehended. For even such innocent deception -was foreign to the soul and heart of Isla Mackinnon, -which was as clear and true as the waters of her -own loch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw the fat, white pony presently, standing -before the dry-stone dyke that shut in the garden of -Darrach farm-house from the road, and she quickened -her steps in order that she might reach it before he -started out again, and might thus save him another -stop on the steep ascent. That act was natural to her, -if you like; for if at any time by her thought or speech -or act she could help another, then she was happy -indeed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But David of the grim face and the silent tongue had -got into the gig again, and the fat pony had ambled -off before she could stop him. Presently they met -where a little water-course merrily crossed the gravelly -road, seeking its way to the Glenogle burn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-morning, David. I hope you are quite well. -You had letters for Mrs. Maclure. Surely you are -earlier than usual."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It wass only a post-cairt from her niece, Jeanie -Maclure, from the school at Govan sayin' she would -come for the week-end maype," answered David, as if -the matter were of moment to the whole glen. "Yes--there -pe lots an' lots of letters. I hope yourself an' the -General are fery well this mornin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, we are," said Isla as she leaned against -the shaft of the old cart, stroking the fat pony's yellow -eldes, her eyes a little more bright and eager than usual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David fingered the letters with outward and visible -clumsiness, but he was most careful with them, and in -all the years of his service he had never made a mistake -with one or failed to deliver it to its proper recipient.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, David; this is all I want," said Isla as -her fingers closed over the thick letter enclosed in its -foreign envelope. "Take the rest up to Achree. My -father will be waiting for them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Isla. That I will do, and hope it will pe -good news from Maister Malcolm in foreign parts, an' -that he will pe fery well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, David. He is sure to be well," said Isla, -trying to speak lightly, but her fingers were nervously -closing over the letter, and into her eyes there crept a -strange shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had sometimes said that she had the gift of -second sight which was so common among the Mackinnons. -Certainly she knew before she opened that -letter, about a hundred yards lower down the road, that -it contained bad news. It was too thick to be of no -consequence, for her brother Malcolm was no great -letterwriter when times were easy and his credit good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded good-bye to David Bain and passed on, -hastening more quickly than usual past the farm-house -of Darrach, though there lived one of her best and most -faithful friends in the whole glen--one Elspeth Mackay -married to Donald Maclure, the big crofter who was -respected in the glen, from end to end of it, as a man -of his word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Elspeth's tongue was long and her eyes were very -keen, and Isla was not ready for them yet. Therefore -she hastened past the gate of Darrach, not even smiling -as the rich, fine smell of Elspeth's baking was borne out -through the open door. Down the hill a little way she -came to the old brig that crossed the Darrach burn; and -there she paused, for there was no one in sight and the -slope hid her from view of Elspeth's windows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could never afterwards recall that half-hour by -the Darrach Brig without an inward shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus did Malcolm Mackinnon, the ne'er-do-weel, write -airily and lightly, telling the miserable story that well -nigh broke his sister's heart:--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"DEAR ISLA,--Last time you wrote me you hoped I -would have better news to send next time. I'm sorry I -can't comply. I seem to have the devil's own luck here in -this beastly country. In fact, I may as well say at once -that it's all up with me and that I'm coming home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never been very happy in the Thirty-fifth nor -got on well with old Martindale. He's a beast, if ever -there was one, a regular martinet, and unless you -practise the whole art of sucking up to him you may as well -give up the ghost, as far as any chance of promotion or -even of fair play is concerned. Of course, no Mackinnon -can suck up to anybody--we've got too much beastly -pride. Anyway, I haven't been able to soft-sawder -Martindale enough, and I have been in his black books -ever since I joined. But it's got a lot worse in the last -nine months.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I wrote the governor last year, asking him to -use his influence to get me shifted, I was quite in earnest, -and if he'd done it all this row might have been prevented. -We've been up country a goodish bit since I wrote last, -and there again I didn't get fair play or a bit of a chance. -We've had several brushes with a hostile tribe, but the -other chaps got their innings every time and nothing -but the dirty work was left to me. We had such a lot -of beastly, unnecessary fag on our marches that most of -the chaps were on the verge of mutiny; but I was the -only one with the courage to speak up. Whatever garbled -version of the story may get home, you may take it from -me, old girl, that is the bottom truth of it. Anyhow, I've -got to send in my papers--that's the long and the short -of it. All the chaps, except the few that suck up to -Martindale, think I've been treated most beastly badly, -and unjustly besides. But of course nobody listens to a -poor subaltern's defence or excuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the time you get this I shall have started for -home. I'm coming by the 'Jumna,' a rotten slow boat, -but I think it better for many reasons--chiefly those of -economy. I shall be pleased to see the old place again, -and I hope the governor won't cut up too rough. Try -and get the worst over for me before I come, because -naturally I'm raw enough about the whole bally thing, -and couldn't stand much more. Fact is, it's all right in -a crack regiment for the chaps who have big allowances. -There's only one word to fit the case of poor, hard-up -beggars like me, and that one I mustn't use. Poverty -opens the door to all sorts of mischief and misery that a -girl who never needs any money can't begin to understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd better make a clean breast of it while I'm at it, -and you'll have time to digest it before I get home. I'm -in with the money-lenders both in London and in -Calcutta. I owe about two thousand pounds, and how -it's to be paid is keeping me awake at night. Of course, -it's been advanced on Achree, so heaven only knows -what will be the upshot. I'll have to see that old -starched stick Cattanach the minute I get back so that -the old man may not be worried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only I had the place in my own hands I'd make -things hum a bit. You know, Isla, everything has been -shockingly neglected in the last five years, and a perfect -horde of pensioners have been kept off the poor old -place. The half of them ought to be chucked; it's -nothing but pauperizing the glen from end to end. A -bit more could be screwed out of the tenants, as most -of them have their places dirt-cheap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, old girl, I'm beastly sorry, for you can't be -expected to like this. But suspend your judgment, for really -I'm not half so bad as I'm painted, and if I had only -half a chance I might prove it to you. I must try and -get somebody to introduce me to the Stock Exchange. -That seems to be the only way of turning an honest -penny nowadays. There are hundreds of military men -on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be too downhearted over this. You are such -a one for taking things seriously, and there's hardly -anything in life worth worrying about, really. You have -the best of it, for nobody expects anything of a girl, and -she hasn't a chap's temptations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, old girl. I shall see you soon, if I don't -fancy on board the 'Jumna' that the easiest way out -would be to drop quietly over the rail some night when -nobody's looking.--Your affectionate, but -down-on-his-luck,</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>"MALCOLM."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just for the space of five minutes or so the world was -a dark place to Isla Mackinnon. She had no mother, -and for the last ten years she had borne a double -burden--had experienced both a mother's anxiety and a sister's -shame for the ne'er-do-weel. The history of Malcolm -Mackinnon's misdeeds in the glen, and out of it, would -fill a book. But such a book would not be worth the -writing. Through him evil had fallen on an old and -honourable house--its revenues had been scattered, its -very existence threatened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Malcolm was stationed at home, at Colchester, -at Sheerness, and at the Curragh, complaints had been -many and his scrapes innumerable, and Isla had -welcomed with abundant relief the news that his regiment -was ordered to India. That was three years ago. And -now the final blow had fallen. He had been dismissed -the army, in itself a disgrace so overwhelming that Isla -knew there must be some scandalous story behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently he would be home to loaf about in idleness, -to harry the people, to wring her heart and the heart of -the old man, in so far as he was able to comprehend. -And, with it all, he would smile his wicked and alluring -smile and get off scot-free. This was the first time -condign punishment had been meted out to him, and he -took it lightly and merely remarked that it was injustice. -Everything was injustice that sought in any way to -hamper the wayward impulses of Malcolm Mackinnon. -It had been so from his youth up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what was to be done? That half-hour of anguish -did its work on the face of Isla Mackinnon. It ploughed -a few more lines on it and took away the last remnant -of its girlish curve. She had a woman's work in front of -her, and a man's combined, for the intellect of the old -General was clouded now, and his bodily health frail. -There was no one to act for Achree save her alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she would act. Presently she threw her head up, -and the pride of her race crept back to sustain her, and -her eye even flashed with the swift strength of her new -resolve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dogs, hovering wistfully about her feet, asking -mutely why she lingered and cheated them out of their -scamper down the hill, reminded her of the passage of -time. She pulled herself together, thrust the letter into -her bosom, and, grasping her stick, walked on with feet -which faltered only at the first step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She reached the village, gave her order at the little -shop, inquired for a child who was sick in the house -above, passed the time of day with all whom she met, -and even listened patiently to a tinker's tale, told with -the persuasive guile of her tribe. She felt herself a dual -person that day. Never had the brain of the inner self -been so active. Her swift planning was so intense as to -make her head ache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All her small commissions done, she breasted the hill -again and so came to the gate of Darrach farm-house, -where Elspeth Maclure was looking out for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now it must be explained that Elspeth had been a -nurse-girl at Achree and had had Isla in her absolute -care for the first seven years of her life. Then she had -married honest Donald Maclure and had flitted to the -house of Darrach, whose chief recommendation, in her -eyes, was that it stood straight on the main road and -that, from its windows, she could see all who passed to -and fro between the village and the old Castle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The private life of its inmates was not hid from -Elspeth. She, too, remembered and took anxious note -of the Indian mail-day. As she came down the path, -wiping the flour of her baking from her hands on the -snow-white of her apron, her deep, dark eyes scanned -the beloved face of her darling with all a mother's solicitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth was now considerably over forty--a comely, -motherly woman with a clear, rosy face and abundant -black hair, a model wife and mother, and the staunchest -friend of Isla Mackinnon's whole life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she opened the little gate, she saw that Isla -could not speak, and that her face was wan and dark -under the eyes. She took her by the two hands and -drew her towards the door of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is pad news, whatefer, my lamb. I knew it wass -comin' at twelve o'clock last night when that thrawn -prute of a cock wouldna stop his crawin'. I wass for -Donald gettin' up to thraw hiss ill neck, only he -wouldna."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla did not speak, and, quite suddenly, when they -got within the house, where the baby, in a queer little -cage of Donald's making, was crowing in the middle of -the floor, she threw herself into Elspeth'e arms and -burst into a storm of weeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, this was the most terrifying thing that had ever -happened in Elspeth's experience, and it seemed to -presage such woe as she had not dreamed of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the Mackinnons were a proud and self-contained -race, and to make parade of their feelings was impossible -for them. It may be that they, as a family, had erred -in repressing them too much. There had been but three -in the family--the third being an elder sister who had -married young and died in childbed. Her death was -the first sorrow that had helped to take the spring out -of the old man's heart. He had never, perhaps, been -quite just to Isla, because he had loved his first-born -best.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, there, my lammie! God forpid that you -should cry your heart oot like that. Put there--it will -do ye good! Oh, the man that invented the post hass -a heap to answer for. In the old days the trouble had -plown ower, whatefer, afore we got wind of it, especially -when it happened in foreign parts. What is he sayin' -till it the day, my dear? It is not impident curiosity -that pids me ask, put I canna pear to see ye like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all spoken in a crooning voice which had the -effect of soothing the overcharged heart of the girl. That -outburst of natural tears was the very best thing which -could have happened to her. Thus relieved, her heart -quickly recovered its strength. She drew back, smiling -weakly, begged to be forgiven for such an exhibition, -and fumbled inside her blouse for the missive that had -wrought such woe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smoothed it out and, for the moment, she thought -to pass it over to her faithful friend, who, though no -scholar, would have had no difficulty in reading that -big, sprawling, crude schoolboy writing. But again the -shame of it overcame the girl, and sitting down on the -edge of a chair, she lifted her wet eyes to Elspeth's face -and said mournfully:--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the deluge, Eppie. I've always said it would -come, and it is here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What hass happened? Pe pleased to tell it quickly, -Miss Isla, for I nefer wass a good hand at waitin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Malcolm has been dismissed from the Army, and -he is coming home. He has sailed by now," she -added, referring to the second page of the letter, "and -his ship, the 'Jumna,' will arrive in about three weeks. -It's a slow boat, but inside a month he'll be at -Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth bit her lip, and her hands worked nervously -in front of her apron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the good God's sake, Miss Isla, what are we to -do with him here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I want to know. It will kill my father. -He must never know that Malcolm has been sent home. -He must just think that it is an ordinary leave of -absence. Poor dear, it is not so hard to bamboozle him -now as it once was! If he grasped the fact that Malcolm -had been cashiered it would simply kill him. Now I -shall be hard put to it, watching for other letters from -India or from the War Office. Oh, Elspeth, I'm so tired -of playing watch-dog! It's killing me. Sometimes I -think I shall get up quite early one morning and go -down to the little loch and just walk in, where it is all -silvery with the dawn. Then everything would be over, -and I should be at peace!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God forpid, my lamb, since ye are the one hope and -salvation of Achree," said Elspeth Maclure fervently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is little hope for Achree now, and, so far as -I can see, nothing can save it. My brother owes so -much money, that, to get him clear, we ought to sell it. -It is what he will do himself, without doubt, whenever -he gets it into his own hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth Maclure stood, thunderstruck and horrified, -staring vaguely in front of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sell Achree what hass peen the place of the Mackinnons -for efer and efer!" she repeated slowly. "God -forpid. He would nefer let it come to pass. Oh, Miss -Isla, the laws made py men are not good laws. I'm -only a plain woman, put this I see that, when a man iss -like what Maister Malcolm iss, without the fear of God -or man in hiss heart, he should not haf the power. I -suppose he hass porrowed the money on the place, put -it iss not him that will haf to pey," she added fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," repeated Isla, with a hard, far-away look on her -face, "it is not he who will have to pay."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-old-home"><span class="large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE OLD HOME</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Isla rose to her feet, and, suddenly, observing the baby -clutching with his chubby hands at the side of his cage -and smiling engagingly into her face, she stretched out -her hands to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you darling! Did Isla forget him, then? What -a shame!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lifted him out, and his small chubby hands met -tightly round her neck, and his cheek was laid against -hers with a coo of delight. Elspeth stood smiling by, -thinking of the wonder and gift of the child that can -charm grief away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only you had a good man of your own, Miss Isla, -and a heap of little pairns, like me, things would pe -easier," she said quaintly. "It's not for me to say, put -I whiles think that if there had peen ither laddies in -Achree, Maister Malcolm wouldna haf had it all his own -wey, which would haf peen a good thing for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Elspeth, what you say is true; but I shall -never have a man or any little bairns," she said with a -sigh. "My life-work is cut out plainly enough--and -has been from the beginning. I have to save Achree -somehow--and I will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would be a fery good thing, no doubt, put the -ither would pe petter, my lamb," said Elspeth with such -yearning in her eyes that Isla, feeling her composure -shaking again, hastily kissed the child and put him -back in his little enclosure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Donald must positively patent this, Eppie--he would -make money by it. It's the cleverest thing I've ever -seen," she said lightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does the turn, and I'm not sayin' put that Donald -is clever--clever with hiss hands. It makes up for the -gift of the gab which he hass not got. I never saw a -man speak less. I whiles ask him if his tongue pe not -tired with too little wark."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but his heart is of gold, Eppie. Don't you ever -miscall Donald to me, for I won't listen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wha's misca'in him, whatefer?" asked Elspeth with -a small laugh which hid a tear. "Good-bye, Miss Isla, -my ponnie dear, and may the good God go wi' ye and -help ye ower this steep pit of the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla nodded and sped away, not daring to trust herself -to further speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left alone, Eppie Maclure sat down and incontinently -began to cry. She came from one of the islands of the -western seas, owned by kinsfolk of the Achree Mackinnons, -and her heart was as soft as her speech, which -had the roll of the western seas in its tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were no tears in Isla's eyes as she breasted the -hill bravely, brain and heart so busy that the good mile -seemed but a stone's throw. It was half-past twelve -when she stopped at the low doorway of the house, and -with a wave of the hand dismissed the dogs, who went -off with hanging heads, as if they were conscious of -having missed something in their walk. They knew--for -there are few people wiser than the dumb creatures -that love us--that, though the body of their mistress -had accompanied them down the familiar way, her heart -was clean away from them and from all the little homely -happenings that can make a country walk so pleasant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lifted the sneck softly and went in, closing the -door behind her. It was rather a wide low hall, with a -flagged stone floor washed as clean as hands and soft -rain water could make it. A few deer-skins were -scattered on it, some of them rather worn and bare, as -it was a long time since a Mackinnon had stalked a deer -in the forest of Achree. Some fine antlered heads stood -out upon the wall between the stout wooden beams that -supported it and were now black with age and shining -with the peatreek. A fire of peat was burning now in -the wide fireplace, in which there was no grate. On the -oak mantelpiece there were queer, carved wooden pots, -full of stag's moss and heather that had lost its bloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a bare, cold place, with very little beauty to -arrest the eye, yet it had a dignity difficult to explain -or to describe. The stair went up, wide and steep, from -one end of the hall for a few steps, and then it became -a winding one leading to all sorts of nooks and crannies -having small and unexpected landings, with doors -opening abruptly off them--a bewildering house, and -very "ill-convenient" to quote once more the language -of the glen. But Isla Mackinnon loved every stone and -beam of it, and the heart of her was heavy, because she -saw in the very near future the day approaching when -the Mackinnons would be out of it, root and branch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not before I've done my best to save it, please -God," she said under her breath, as she cast her coat -aside and went to look for her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An old serving-man in a shabby kilt emerged from the -faded red-baize door that shut off the servants' quarters, -bearing a tray with glasses in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose it is just on lunch time, Diarmid?" she -said. "Where is the General?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have just put him comfortable with the paper by -the library fire, Miss Isla," said the man, as he scanned -her face almost wistfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He, too, knew the day of the Indian mail. She -motioned him to the dining-room, a long, narrow room -furnished in what the irreverent called spindle-shanks, -but what was in reality genuine and valuable furniture -of the Chippendale period. Many old and very -discoloured family portraits covered the walls, and the -carpet, once a warm crimson but now almost threadbare, -gave the only touch of colour to the place. The table -was beautifully set, and the silver on it was fit for a -king's table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Mackinnons were very poor, but there were -certain dignities of life which they never ignored or -made light of. Whatever the fare might be--and on -most occasions it was simple enough--the table was -always so laid that the best in the land could have been -welcomed to it without shame. The damask was darned, -but yet it had a sheen like satin on it such as they do -not achieve on the looms of the present day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla closed the door and, steadying herself against it, -spoke to the old man who had served them as boy and -man for five-and-forty years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a letter from Mr. Malcolm, Diarmid. He -is on his way home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid set down his tray rather suddenly, so that -the glasses rang as they touched one another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes--Miss Isla?" he said almost feverishly. "But -why will he come home? Is it leave he is having -already so soon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Diarmid. He is leaving the Army for good. I -am telling you, because you love us all so much and -understand everything. This news must be kept from -the General."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Isla--but how? If Mr. Malcolm comes -home he comes home, and the General will see him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, but he must think only that he is home on -furlough. We must make up something that will satisfy -him--for a time, at least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Isla, and if Mr. Malcolm is to come home -what will he do here in the glen, for sure he is a great -big, strong gentleman--glory be to God--and it is not -thinkable that he can be here doing nothing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't got so far as that, Diarmid," said Isla, -wearily. "My head aches and aches with thinking. I -sometimes wish I could fall asleep at night and never -waken any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Isla, but then the sun would go down upon -the glen for efer and efer," said the old man with -twitching lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had carried her as a baby in his arms, he had set -her almost before she could toddle upon the back of the -old sheltie that now lived, a fat pensioner, in the paddock -behind the house; he had watched her grow from sweet -girlhood to womanhood, and his heart had rebelled -against the hardness of her destiny. She had never had -her due. Other girls in her position had married well, -had happy homes and devoted husbands, and little children -about their knees, while she, the flower of them all, -remained unplucked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid, a religious man--as befitted one who had -lived such an uneventful and happy life--was sometimes -tempted to ask whether the God whom he worshipped -had fallen asleep over the affairs of Achree. Of late, his -rebellion had become acute. In the silence of his dingy -pantry he had even been known to shake his fist over -the silver he was polishing and to utter words not -becoming on the lips of so circumspect a servant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say nothing to the others, Diarmid. Let them think -that Mr. Malcolm is only home on furlough," she -pursued. "I must make it right with my father somehow. -I'll go to him now and tell him about the letter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Isla. And Mr. Malcolm, he is quite well, -I hope?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, he is always well. Perhaps, if he were -not--but there, I must guard my tongue. The days are -very dark over Achree, Diarmid, and it may be that its -sun will soon set for ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God forbid! He will nefer let that happen--no, nor -anypody else, forby," he said vaguely. "Keep up your -brave heart, Miss Isla. I haf seen it fery dark over the -loch of a morning, and again, by midday, it would clear -and the sun come out. It will be like that now, nefer -fear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But though brave words were on the old man's tongue, -black despair was in his heart. He was only a servingman, -but he could read between the lines, and he knew -that this sudden and unexpected home-coming of the -ne'er-do-weel meant something dire for Achree. His -hands trembled very much as he proceeded with his -table duties, while his young mistress made her way -across the hall again to the library, a queer little octagon -room on the south side of the house, with no view to -speak of from its high, narrow windows that looked out -on the rising slope of a heather hill which made the -beginning of the moor of Creagh. It was, however, the -snuggest room in the whole house, for which reason it -was used almost entirely by the General as a living place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was frail now, going to bed early and rising late, -and seldom caring to ascend the winding stairs to his -bedroom after he had once left it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla entered softly, and his dull ear failed to apprise -him of the opening of the door. She was thus able to -look at him before he was aware of her presence. Once -a very tall man, standing six feet two in his stockings -in his prime, his fine figure was now sadly shrunk. He -sat in a straight, high-backed chair--principally because -there were very few of the other sort in the old Castle of -Achree, and because there was no money to buy them -with, but she could see the droop of the shoulders as -they rested against the small cushion that she had filled -with down to give him a little ease. He wore a velvet -skullcap, from the edge of which there showed a fringe -of beautiful silvery hair. His feet, in the big loose -slippers of the old man, were raised on a hassock and he -was holding the newspaper high before his eyes. Isla -observed, from its continuous flutter, that his hands -were a little more shaky than usual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face was very fine. In his youth Mackinnon of -Achree had been the handsomest man in West Perthshire, -and he was reported to have broken his full -complement of hearts. Even now the classic outline of his -face was plainly discernible, and he reminded one of -some old war-horse that was past service, but that -retained to the end all the noble characteristics that -had distinguished him in the heyday of his glory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What news to-day, father?" asked Isla's fresh, clear -voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he heard it he rose to his feet with that fine -courtesy towards women which had never failed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laid a hand in gentle reprimand on his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, how often have I told you, old dear, that you -are not to be so ceremonious with me? You can keep -your fine manners for the great ladies who never, never -now come to Achree. Your little Isla knows that they -are there, and she doesn't need ocular demonstration of -their presence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled and patted her cheek. He was an old -man, now in his seventy-fifth year. He had been so -long on foreign service that he had not married till late -in life, and he had then made a marriage which had -been the one mistake of his life, and into which he had -been led by the softness of his own heart. Yet in battle, -and in the affairs of men, he had been a terrific person, -to be avoided by those who had offended him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fruits of that marriage, unfortunately, had come -out in the son and heir in whose veins ran the wild blood -of the woman who had broken Mackinnon's heart. -There was no fight in the General now. He was a broken -old man--very gentle, not altogether comprehending, a -mere cypher in his own house, though his honour and -his prestige were more jealously guarded by his household -than they had ever been when he could guard them -himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His health was frail, but he suffered apparently from -no disease. The doctor from Comrie who paid a weekly -visit often assured Isla that, with care, there was no -reason why her father should not live for other ten years. -Only he mustn't have any shock. He so often insisted -upon this that Isla would ask herself after he had gone -how, as circumstances were with them now, shock could -be avoided. Apprehension was in the very air, and when -Malcolm came home shock would most certainly be the -order of the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where have you been, Isla?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down to Lochearn, and I stopped at Darrach to -speak to Eppie. You know how her tongue wags. Sit -down, dear, and let me tell you something. Have you -had any interesting letters?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," he said vaguely. "I looked at some -of them. There is one from Cattanach, but I don't -understand it. You'll explain it to me, Isla, and write -what is necessary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cattanach was the family lawyer, the head of a big -legal firm in Glasgow that had administered the affairs -of Achree for many years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla seized upon his letter jealously, and read it even -with a feeling of foreboding. But as her eyes quickly -covered the typewritten words, lo! a great relief was -hers. The thing she had dreaded now manifested itself -as a blessing--perhaps even as a way out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, have you read this letter?" she asked, -drawing her chair to his side and still holding it in her -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I read it--yes, but I don't think I understand. He -says something about strange folks coming to Achree. -You can write to him, Isla, and tell him that we are not -in a position to entertain, as we used to be. We have -not the folk about us to make guests comfortable--nor -perhaps have we the heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no; but that is not quite what he means, darling," -said Isla eagerly. "Let me read it over to you -quite slowly, then perhaps you will understand."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"ST. VINCENT PLACE,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"GLASGOW, March.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"DEAR GENERAL MACKINNON,--I hardly like to approach -you on the subject of this letter, but a client of -mine is so insistent that I don't seem to have any -alternative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I write on behalf of Mr. Hylton Rosmead, an -American gentleman who is looking for a place in your -neighbourhood to rent for the season. He wants it for -six months at least--from Easter to October, with the -option of stopping on if agreeable to both parties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems odd that, with the whole of Scotland to -choose from, he and his family should hit upon Achree -which, as I told him, is not in the market. They saw it -in course of a motor tour last autumn, and were so -struck with it, it seems, that it is the only place they -would have in the whole of Scotland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I may say two things that may help you to a -decision. They are Americans of the best type, and he -would pay a fancy price for the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no alternative but to lay the offer before you -and may I remind you that the letting of places to -people of this type has become so common among the -old families that it is the exception not to let them at -some time or other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be glad to hear from you at your very earliest -convenience as Mr. Rosmead is anxious to get settled. -Hoping you feel yourself better with the approach of -spring, and that Miss Mackinnon is quite well,--I am, -dear General, yours faithfully,</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"ALEXANDER CATTANACH."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Long before Isla had reached the close of this letter -the old man's attention had wandered and, though his -eyes had not fixed themselves on the paper again, Isla -saw that he was not in the smallest degree either -interested or comprehending.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't understand, dear, that some one wants to -take Achree from us for a few months and to pay a high -rent--a very high rent--for it. Why shouldn't we let -it? Look how often Uncle Tom has let Barras. He -has told us he couldn't get on without letting it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, of course not. Read this account of affairs in -Rhodesia, Isla. It's the aftermath of the war. Heavens, -we'll never get to the end of that precious muddle! I -said so at the time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla laid down the letter quietly, intending to return -to it later. It was part of the difficulty of her life, part -of the hopelessness of the present acuter stage in it, that -she could not get her father to comprehend facts and -details which were of the utmost importance. Either -he could not or he would not understand--there were -times when she was at a loss to say which.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she laid Cattanach's letter down she drew her -brother's from the bosom of her blouse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you remember that this is mail-day, father? -You know you can't read Malcolm's scrawl, which seems -to grow more illegible with every letter. Shall I read it -out to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Tell me what he says. His letters weary me. -They are full of words I don't understand and have no -use for," he said with a sudden touch of querulousness. -"I can't understand why a boy that has been at Glenalmond -and at Sandhurst wants to fill his letters with -unintelligible jargon. How is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's quite well. He is coming home, father. He -will be here very shortly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coming home! Leave again! Far too much leave -in the service now. They have no time to lick them -into shape. Seventeen years I served in Northern India -without a break--and never a murmur; and I've known -men who served thirty. Now it's leave every third or -fourth year. It doesn't look like five since he was last -here, but I suppose it is. Well, when is he coming?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In about a month."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bad time of year, too--nothing to kill but a stray -rabbit. I think I'll write to them at the War Office and -stir them up about this perpetual leave business. It's -bad for the men, bad for the officers, bad for the service -all through, and accounts for its unpopularity and -inefficiency. In my day the Army was a man's business--the -serious business of his life. Now it's his play. -How can a country be kept together on these lines?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla betrayed no weariness, though she knew that he -had started on his interminable theme. It was the only -one in which he retained any active interest, for -Mackinnon had been born a soldier, and the medals he -had won could not be pinned all at one time on his -breast. But his failing powers prevented him from -being able to adjust his mind to the new conditions of -things. In his estimation, the old style of warfare was -best, and all the new methods were fit only to be -criticized and partly abolished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He doesn't say anything about the duration of his -leave. I, too, am rather sorry he is coming home just -now, father, for, as you say, there is nothing to kill and -Malcolm isn't a man of resource. I think I'll go and see -Cattanach and ask his advice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cattanach? Oh, yes. What did he write about, -did you say? Anything to sign? Or was he writing only -for his own amusement to earn six-and-eightpence? -Terrible fellows these lawyers--even the best of them -are worth watching."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed gently but quite mirthlessly, and his eyes -glued themselves again to his paper, in which he at -once became completely absorbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, knitting her brows slightly, turned away to the -table to glance through her father's letters, which he -had not so much as touched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everything was in her hands. Something whispered -that she, and she alone, must be the saviour of Achree.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="isla-takes-action"><span class="large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">ISLA TAKES ACTION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Isla, already dressed for a journey, took in her father's -breakfast-tray next morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are surely early afield, my dear?" he said, -looking at the trim figure with quick approbation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, dear. I am going to Glasgow to see Mr. Cattanach, -because I found when I started out to answer his -letter that I couldn't say half I wanted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His letter wasn't very clear, I thought. Ask him -why he doesn't learn to express himself better. I thought -that was a lawyer's business. But it seems a long way -to go to Glasgow to say that to him. When do you get -your train?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nine-thirty, and Jamie Forbes has come up from the -hotel to drive me to Balquhidder. So good-bye, dear. -Diarmid will look after you till I come back, and you -may expect me about tea-time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not ask any other question. His mind was -now curiously detached from all immediate happenings, -and he lived more and more in the past. Even his -reading of the newspapers was coloured by the tendency -to retrospect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla got away with a considerable sense of relief, and -when she mounted to the side of Jamie Forbes in the -hotel dogcart her eyes even sparkled. There was now -no horse of any kind, nor was there any carriage in the -stableyard of Achree, though the old people, even -Diarmid himself, could sadly recall the time when it had -been full.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was glad to be doing something. She had all the -restlessness of an active nature that could not endure a -policy of drift. They had been drifting so long with the -ebb tide at Achree that she welcomed the crisis which -made it necessary to take an immediate step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went ostensibly to ask the lawyer's advice, but -her own mind was made up as to the best course to -pursue. Her judgment was singularly clear, and she -was not now in the smallest doubt as to the right--nay, -the only--thing to be done in the circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Balquhidder Station a few passengers were waiting -for the Oban train, and, slightly to Isla's chagrin, directly -she appeared on the platform a tall young man in a -tweed suit and a covert coat came forward, with evident -signs of satisfaction, to greet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, Isla. This is an uncommon bit of -luck. Are you going to town?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Glasgow," she unwillingly admitted. "And you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glasgow too," he answered joyfully. "I was cursing -my luck as I drove over the hill from Garrion, but if I -had known, I should have driven with a lighter heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla scarcely smiled. She liked Neil Drummond very -well as a friend, for they had known each other since -their childhood. But in the last three years he had -spoiled that friendship by periodically asking her to -marry him. The expression in his eyes now indicated -that very little provocation would make him ask her -again on the spot, for he was very much in earnest. He -was two years younger than Isla, and she always treated -him like a young and very inexperienced brother, which -incensed him a good deal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had just come into the property from his uncle, -and wanted nothing but a wife to make Garrion complete. -He was a finely-built, good-looking young fellow, -with an honest, kindly face, with not a very high type -of intellect perhaps, but with sufficient common sense -and sound judgment to fill admirably the position to -which he had been called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He and his sister Kitty, being orphans, had been -brought up by their uncle at Garrion, and had known -no other home. Kitty and Isla were friends, of course, -though there was not so very much in common between -that dashing, high-spirited, happy-go-lucky girl and the -more staid and placid Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's Kitty? We haven't seen her for a long time," -she said as they began to pace to and fro on the -platform--objects of much interest of a significant kind to those -who knew them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kitty's alone, but when are you coming to Garrion? -Aunt Betty is always asking why you don't come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's easily answered. It's five miles to Garrion, -and I haven't either a horse or a bicycle; but tell Lady -Betty I'll walk over one of these days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You needn't do that, Isla--and very well you know -it. All you have to do is to say the word, and the best -bit of horse-flesh in Garrion stables is at your command."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't much time," she said rather quickly. -"Father seems to need me more of late, and----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated, and then came to a stop, deciding that -she would not just yet mention a word about Malcolm's -coming home. It was not that she could not trust Neil -Drummond, but the shame of that home-coming held -her back from speaking of it even to a friend of such -long standing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very unusual for you to go to Glasgow, isn't it?" -said Neil, looking down with a slightly rueful expression -at the bonnie, winsome face by his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very unusual. Last night father had a letter -from Mr. Cattanach, which we found rather difficult to -answer, so I came to the conclusion that it might save -further complications if I went up and had a talk with -him about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if that's all, you can come and lunch with me, -can't you? St. Enoch's Hotel, one sharp. I'm only -after a horse. It won't take me more than an hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla hesitated, but finally promised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must get the two-ten train, and if anything happens -to prevent me from keeping the appointment, don't wait. -I'll be there at one if I'm coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," said Drummond joyfully. "This is a -red-letter day--and no mistake. Shows that a fellow -never knows when his next bit of good luck is going to -turn up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked so young and boyish at the moment that -Isla suddenly smiled upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a boy you are, Neil! I don't believe anything -will ever make you grow up. Even being Laird of -Garrion hasn't had the smallest effect. Here's the train. -Now I warn you I won't speak to you on the journey, -because I have heaps and heaps of things to arrange in -my mind. Remember, I'm going to a lawyer's office, -and nobody goes there unprepared."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right. So long as I am sitting next to you, and -preventing anybody else from speaking to you, I shan't -grumble," said Neil calmly as he helped her into a corner -of the third-class carriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had a first-class ticket himself, which he carefully -hid from her. Had he dared he would have paid the -difference for the privilege of having a compartment to -themselves, but Isla would not have permitted that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shortly after eleven o'clock they arrived at Glasgow -and, saying that it was necessary for him to have a cab -to take him to his destination at the south-side, he put -Isla in and drove her the short distance to the lawyer's -door. Then with the prospect of meeting her at lunch -in little more than an hour's time, he departed in the -seventh heaven of delight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Mackinnon, sending in her name, was not kept -waiting an unnecessary moment. Indeed, so much was -she respected in the office that Cattanach turned over -a rather important client to his junior partner and at -once went to see Miss Mackinnon, escorting her to his -private room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came in consequence of your letter to papa -yesterday, Mr. Cattanach," said Isla as they shook hands. -"It was of such importance that I thought I would -come and have a talk with you about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cattanach was not an old man, and he bore his fifty -years lightly. He had a somewhat heavy yet keen face, -was a little stern in repose. But, when his -genial smile irradiated his face, the sternness was -forgotten. His reputation in the city was that of being -one of the first lawyers of the day, and business simply -flowed in upon his firm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father had been at the helm of Achree affairs -when they were in a more prosperous state, and he had -been a life-long friend and admirer of the General. He -had managed to communicate his sincere and sympathetic -interest to his son, who had done much more -for the Mackinnons than they could have had the right -to expect from their man of business or than could ever -be repaid. He had indeed helped young Mackinnon out -of several scrapes for his father's and his sister's sake, -though doing that had been a service very ill to his -liking. An interview with Isla herself, however, was a -pure pleasure, which, on this occasion, was all the -keener that it was wholly unexpected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, thank you, I am quite well and father too, -though he is failing, I think," she said rather sadly. -"I came in answer to your letter and in order to show -you this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had a small bag of curiously-wrought Moorish -leather on her arm, from which she produced the letter -that had come yesterday by the Indian mail. She did -not immediately pass it over, however, or read any -extract from it, but, leaning slightly forward in her chair, -she fixed her clear, grave eyes on the lawyer's face as he -stood in quite characteristic attitude in front of his -desk, leaning one hand slightly on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you sit down, Mr. Cattanach? I'm afraid I -must take up quite a lot of your time this morning--an -hour perhaps. I have to lunch at the St. Enoch's -Hotel at one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I shall not have the pleasure of taking you to -lunch myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to-day, thank you," said Isla, and he imagined -her colour rose slightly. "It is about your letter I first -want to speak. My father did not comprehend it, I am -afraid. He sent the message to you," she added with a -faint, wandering smile, "that he was surprised that a -lawyer did not express himself better. But of course to -me what you said was perfectly clear. Tell me about -this man who wishes to take poor old Achree. Is -he--is he at all a possible person?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was just the slightest suggestion of hauteur in -the question, which, at another time, might have -amused Cattanach hugely. Out in the hard world of -men and business things were called by their right -names, and there would have been small sympathy -expressed for the Mackinnon pride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he understood. This fine creature, product of an -ancient race and embodiment in her own personality of -all that was best in it, appealed to him beyond any power -of his to express. He was prepared to meet her and to -help her, not only to the best of his ability but even -beyond what his prudence and his better judgment would -have permitted. And it would not be the first time in -the record of his transactions with Achree that service -had been rendered by Alexander Cattanach from purely -disinterested motives--service that had never found its -way into the columns of any ledger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is a very possible person indeed, Miss Mackinnon, -quite the best type of educated American--and the type -is very good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it?" asked Isla with a little shiver. "I have never -encountered it. The few specimens that come to the glen -are not--are not what one would call the best type. And -the people who had Edinard for two seasons running!--shall -one ever forget them? Their flying motors with -screaming hooters, their impossible costumes, their -disregard for our quiet Sabbaths, their noise--all were -indescribable. I should not like such people as they at Achree. -But, indeed, I don't suppose such people would so much as -look at it. Lady Eden told me that the first year it cost -her half the rent to put into the house what her tenants -wanted. They were so mean in regard to trifles that they -would not buy the simplest thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cattanach smiled understandingly. He also had some -acquaintance with that type.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think you would find the Rosmeads like that. -I should say myself that they are simple gentlefolks and -that, this summer at least, they would be certain to live -quietly. They wish the place for retirement on account -of Mrs. Rosmead, who is recovering from a long illness, -and for their elder daughter, who has just had an -unpleasant experience in the Divorce Court--one of those -curious matrimonial entanglements of which America -seems to be full. She was here on Tuesday with her -brother. She is one of the most beautiful women I have -ever seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor thing--and had she a bad husband?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand so, but, of course, the subject was not -mentioned. There is a younger daughter called Sadie, -and there is also a boy at Yale or Harvard, who would -spend only his summer here. I think you would like -the family, and they would be willing to pay three -hundred for the house, and five with the shooting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five hundred!" murmured Isla, and her eyes had a -sort of hungry look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Money for its own sake did not exist for her. She was -naturally of a generous, even of a prodigal mind, and -she was certainly made for the gracious dispensation of -great wealth. But she had had to count the pence so -long that she had arrived, by many painful processes, -at full appreciation of their market value.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We could certainly live at Creagh on three hundred; -then two could be laid by, couldn't they, Mr. Cattanach?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned swiftly away, for there was something in -the eager question, almost childishly put, which gripped -him by the throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, of course. In the country life is simple," he -said at last. "I gather from what you say that you -would be willing at least to consider the offer of -Mr. Hylton P. Rosmead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't any alternative now," she said, as she pulled -the strings of the leather bag again and produced her -brother's letter. "Please to read that, Mr. Cattanach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She passed over the thin, and now crumpled sheet -covered with Malcolm's sprawling undignified handwriting, -which the lawyer's eyes quickly scanned. The -expression of his face as its full significance dawned upon -him quite changed and perceptibly hardened. When he -refolded it again it was a moment before the suitable -word came to him. He knew that words of pity or -condolence would be quite out of place, if spoken to Isla -Mackinnon, and that the truest kindness he could show -her would be to accept the situation as a matter of -course and do his utmost to help, as he had opportunity, -or could make it where he had it in his power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This makes acceptance of Rosmead's offer imperative, -as you say, Miss Mackinnon. Perhaps the best thing I -can do is to send him to Achree to see you. He is in -the city this week. He has many friends here connected -with the engineering profession. I believe that in his -own country he is a distinguished engineer, and he -certainly is a very gentlemanly, well-informed man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He praised the American of a set purpose, deeming it -best to direct Miss Mackinnon's thoughts to the pleasant -side of the inevitable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think they would wish a great deal of money -spent on the house? It is very bare, really, and rather -dilapidated. But if he wanted even a tithe of the things -that Lady Eden's tenants asked for I'm afraid the bargain -would have to be off. I could not owe money myself, -even to let Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think there will be any difficulty. They are -without doubt very wealthy people, and, further, they -are so anxious for the place that they will take it at -your terms. You spoke of the Lodge of Creagh a moment -ago. You would go there to live in the interval?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. It happens to be empty since Mrs. Macdonald -died last autumn, and if it were well fired and aired we -could be quite comfortable there. Of course, it is small, -but I would give up the dining-room to my father, and, -so long as he is comfortable and does not suffer by the -change, nothing else matters much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very remote," suggested Cattanach, "and the -road across the moor is nothing to boast of, if I -remember it rightly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course it is only a shooting-lodge--and a small -one at that; but its remoteness won't matter to me, and, -as for my brother, perhaps it would be a very good thing -for him to be shut off by the moor of Creagh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cattanach nodded gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she put another question to him of a more -disconcerting kind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Cattanach, why are men usually dismissed from -the Army? What are the offences, I mean? They must -be grave, of course, because it is so serious a thing to -cut short a man's career at the very commencement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a serious thing, and it is not done on trifling -grounds," he answered quietly, not dreaming of evading -her question. "What your brother says about injustice -is, of course, nonsense. It exists in small things in the -Army, as elsewhere, but it would never reach the length -of, as you say, cutting short a man's career."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sighed a little as she rose to her feet. He had -not specified, but she was answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all very dreadful, and it would certainly kill my -father if he knew. Happily--how strange it is that I -can use the word in relation to what has been such a -sorrow to me, but happily--his failing faculties don't -permit him to grasp the affairs of life. He understands -that Malcolm is coming home, and he is full of wrath at -the amount of leave allowed in the service in these days. -It will thus be all right for a little while, but if Malcolm -is to live on as a loafer," she said with a sad inflexion -of scorn in her voice, "he will be troubled about it. -Oh, Mr. Cattanach, what is to be done with Malcolm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her brave voice shook, and again there was in her -eyes that agony of appeal which a far less kind-hearted -man than Cattanach could not have resisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Miss Mackinnon, the trouble is very real and -awful, but it is not on us just yet. Let us get the -question of the tenancy of Achree settled, and then we -shall have time to tackle the other. The Rosmeads wish -to get settled in the place before Easter. Would that be -possible?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall make it so, and I want to be at Creagh before -Malcolm arrives. He would create all sorts of difficulties, -and it will be far better to get the people into Achree -before then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, that will be difficult, but I have never been -beaten yet, Mr. Cattanach, though sometimes I have -been very near it. Yesterday I thought I was, but -to-day, when I woke up, I felt quite strong and able, and -now, after your kindness, I am sure we shall get through."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall help to the very best of my ability. I can -come down to Achree if you think I can be of any use to -you in persuading the General."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you. I shall write if I think it necessary for -you to come. But he is so like a child! He will be -quite pleased to go to Creagh, I believe, and he will not -understand why we have to leave Achree. I am glad -that it is so now. If he had been his old self it would -have been so difficult for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Undoubtedly it would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Malcolm's affair too! He must not be allowed -to idle about indefinitely in the glen, or I shall never -have a moment's peace. I'm going to talk very straightly -to him when he comes. He has always got off too easily. -But this money--how is it to be found? If they begin -to press for it would they take Achree?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall prevent that. You must leave this in my -hands, Miss Mackinnon. The best thing your brother -could do would be to emigrate to one of the new countries--to -Canada, or the Cape, or even the Argentine. As you -say, it will not be possible to allow him to loaf about the -glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he is so difficult, because, you see, he thinks -nothing matters, and his only desire is to have what he -calls a good time. Even if he has it at other people's -expense he will have it. About this money he owes? -I will do my utmost to save for it out of the money the -Americans will pay. They will not do anything drastic -about it, I hope--seize upon Achree or any part of it," -she repeated wistfully, as if yet unconvinced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can deal with them, Miss Mackinnon. You must -leave that part of the business for your brother and me -to settle between us. You may trust me to do what -will be absolutely for the good of yourself and your -brother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I know," she said with eloquent eyes. "Thank -you so much. You are always so kind. Things seem -easier when one has seen you. Good-bye, then. And -you will send the American man to view the land soon? -I hope I shall be able to please him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A clock on the mantelshelf struck, and she made -haste to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have to lunch with Mr. Neil Drummond of Garrion -at one. I must run," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lawyer himself escorted her to the street door, put -her into a cab, and, as he returned slowly up the stairs, -rubbed his hands together meditatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drummond of Garrion! Well, well, perhaps it might -be the best thing she could do. Poor, poor girl, but -game to the innermost fibre of her being! Where would -our old families be but for such as she--but for the fine -fibre of their women? Garrion! Garrion! By Gad, I -must look into it and see whether it would be worth her -while."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-americans"><span class="large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE AMERICANS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Did you ever see such a shabby room, Peter? It -positively reeks of poverty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus did Sadie Rosmead deliver herself to her brother -after the drawing-room door had been shut upon them -at Achree, and Diarmid had gone to seek his mistress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the Monday following Isla's visit to Glasgow, and, -in consequence of a letter from Cattanach, the Rosmeads -had made a hurried journey out to Glenogle for the -purpose of making acquaintance with the interior of the -house that they so much admired, and, if possible, of -coming to terms with its owners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were a handsome pair. Rosmead himself, a man -of about thirty-five, well, but quietly, dressed, and -carrying his firmly-knit figure with conscious ease and -strength, had a strong, fine face, lit by pleasant grey -eyes that gave a very fair index to his character. He -was a man who, by his own effort, by the sheer force of -his ability, which, in his own domain amounted to -genius, had achieved a distinction and a success -manifest in his very bearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once seen, Peter Rosmead would not be readily -forgotten. He was a man who could not be in any company -without leaving the mark of his personality upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His sister was small, but elegant; dressed with -conspicuous plainness, but in a style which has to be paid -for with considerable cheques. The feature of her -costume was undoubtedly her veil, which, when worn -by a really elegant American woman such as Sadie -Rosmead certainly was, becomes a thing of distinction. -It was only a long width of blue chiffon attached to a -small felt hat of the same hue, but it made a most -becoming setting to her dark, piquant face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes--it positively reeks of poverty. Look at the -darn in the carpet, Peter!" she said severely. "This is -a house of makeshifts, but it's decent poverty, and I've -never seen anything so clean in the whole of my life. -It would charm mother. How I wish she could have -come to-day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still Peter did not answer. There was something -about the room which pained him, but he could not -have explained what it was. It seemed to him indecent -that two strangers, such as they were, should have come -to view the poverty of the land. Cattanach had told -Rosmead several things that he had not mentioned to -any of his women folks; therefore, he was very eager and -interested to see Miss Mackinnon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sadie babbled on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it were not so clean it would be impossible. But -there are some awfully pretty things. Look at that bit -of tapestry on the end wall and at that coat of arms -worked on the banner screen. It's just too sweet for -anything. Now, what are you looking at, Peter?--oh, -the miniatures! Anything good?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a small collection on the mantelpiece, -framed in ebony and standing on little brass tripods--very -exquisite things in their way, and part of the few -remaining treasures of Achree. Rosmead was studying -them intently, and his sister was examining with interest -the various bits of old needlework in the room, when the -door was opened by rather a quick, nervous hand, and -some one came in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead turned back from the mantelpiece, and -Sadie dropped the cushion with the peacock sewn upon -its cover, and turned with a charming smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be angry, Miss Mackinnon. We are not -sampling anything, but we are Americans--don't you -know--and everything in this lovely old house appeals -to us. You are Miss Mackinnon, aren't you? I'm -Sadie Rosmead, and this is my brother Peter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was charmingly done, and it brought a slight smile, -in spite of herself, to Isla's parted lips. She had been -walking very fast, and the colour was high in her cheek. -Her jacket was thrown back to show the neat flannel -shirt belted trimly to her waist, and the black tie held -in its place by the silver brooch, curiously wrought and -displaying the arms of the Mackinnons, the same design -being repeated in the buckle of her belt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so sorry you have been kept waiting. I was at -the other side of the wood, seeing a sick woman. -How-do-you-do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook hands with Sadie, but it was at the brother -that she looked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she was well pleased with what she saw. She -was not concerned at all about the impression she might -be making on them. The only thing that mattered was -that the people who were coming to Achree should not -be objectionable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just for a moment she had been a trifle dismayed by -Miss Rosmead's very obvious nationality--by the twang -in her voice and by the familiarity of her manner. Isla's -own manner inclined to hauteur. She fought against it, -for the person who has goods to sell cannot afford to be -too high and mighty in procedure. Yet she carried -herself, in spite of her efforts to the contrary, like one who -had a favour to bestow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An intensely good-natured person, overflowing with the -milk of human kindness, Sadie Rosmead did not even -notice this characteristic manner, but not a shade of it -was lost on Rosmead himself. It did not, however, -either irritate or repel him. He had an immense gift of -understanding, and he knew what this interview meant -to the girl before them, whose face, now that the little -flush of excitement had died from it, was pale, and even -a little haggard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry you did not let me know, so that you -could have been met at the station and could have come -to luncheon. Have you had any?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," answered Sadie, "a very good snack at the -station buffet at Glasgow, hadn't we, Peter? We should -like a cup of tea perhaps, by and by, after we have seen -the house. I have heard of your Scotch scones and -butter and honey. They have very good imitations of -them at the hotels, but we've been told--haven't we, -Hylton?--that they don't begin to taste like the real -thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla noticed the change of name, and she decided that -the more dignified one suited the brother better. "Peter" -was certainly ridiculous, and yet it had a kindly human -sound and she preferred to think of him as kindly to -thinking of him as dignified at the moment. Achree so -much needed kindness, and she--poor girl!--more than -all, though she was hardly conscious of her own need.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead was fully conscious of it. He had never in -the whole course of his experience met with anything -that touched or appealed to him more than the sight of -this tall, slight girl upon whose shoulders rested what -made her life a burden--the whole responsibility of the -house of her fathers. Cattanach, a discerning man, had -told him just sufficient to arouse his compassionate -interest. Though he spoke so little, Isla felt comforted by -his presence. The thing that had been a nightmare -resolved itself, under his kindly touch, into something that -might not only be possible, but might also prove good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This man, of alien race though he was, would never -harry Achree, nor would he bring to it strange new ways -of life and thought. He looked strong, generous, and -simple--as the truly strong always are.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While this subtle bond was being established between -these two thus so strangely brought together, Sadie did -the talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we would like to see the house--every bit of -it--but not to poke. Only, however, if it is convenient -and only what you are willing to show--eh, Peter? We -don't want to rush Miss Mackinnon, and we can easily -come out another day and bring Vivien."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vivien is your sister?" said Isla inquiringly, as she -laid her jacket down on the end of the high-backed old -sofa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sadie nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She had a headache. She is not so very strong, and -she can't stand racket. I'm the untirable, uncrushable, -wholly inextinguishable member of the family. But not -a bad sort--eh, Peter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter indulgently smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope General Mackinnon is quite well?" he -inquired. "I have heard from Mr. Cattanach that his -health has not been good of late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No--he is not so very strong. To-day, because it felt -really like spring, he has gone for a little walk. I was -with him. But, yes--he is quite all right. One of the -men is coming back with him. If you don't mind, will -you come and see the library before he returns? It is -the room he sits in chiefly, and I am afraid it will be a -little difficult for him to understand what you are doing -in it if he should see you there. We can come back -here, of course, for tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She led the way down the winding stair and across the -flagged hall, which Sadie mutely pointed out to her -brother as they silently followed their guide. All the -windows in the library were open, and the cool, fresh air -met them on the threshold. Again the same note of -shabbiness and painful care was evident, but the room -was well-furnished with books, which completely lined -the walls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose they are centuries old," said Sadie in an -awe-struck whisper. "There--Peter, surely now you -will be able to read your fill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some of them are very old, I believe, and there are -first editions among them," answered Isla, in a matter-of-fact -tone, as if unaware that she talked of treasures which -could be exchanged for gold. "You see this is quite a -good room, and everyone likes the shape of it. It is so -warm in winter, and so cool in summer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was duly admired, and they made their way from it -again to the dining-room. They also took a quick glance -at the servants' premises, where Sadie's sharp eyes took -in most of the details.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now--upstairs," said Isla with evident relief. "And -on the first landing, where the little door opens, just here -is the dungeon-room. It has a trap-door and a stair -going right down from it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sadie's eyes grew positively wide with excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A dungeon-room," she repeated again, in an awe-stricken -whisper. "And where does this stair lead to? -Can anyone go down?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes. It leads to the dungeon, and there used to -be--about the fourteenth century--a passage from it -going both ways, one to Killin and down to the Earn, -but it has not been opened for hundreds of years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you hear that, Hylton Rosmead? The fourteenth -century! Where were we then? How do you see down?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Mr. Rosmead will be so kind----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stooped to pull back the faded strip of home-made -carpet, and so revealed the rusty hinges set level with -the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead stooped also and, with one swing of his strong -arm, he raised the heavy door, so that they could look -into the depths beneath. A curious odour met them, -and Sadie, her imagination now wrought to a high -pitch, fancied she heard mysterious sounds ascending -from below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should love to go down, but we can explore later -when we come to live here. Fancy a place like this -right in the middle of one's house and stairs and passages -leading all over the country! It's positively creepy, -but most fascinating. And a room with a bed in it too! -I wonder whether I should get any sleep in it if I took it -for my own?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is rather small, isn't it?" said Isla with a smile. -"It was used as a sentinel's or guard's room chiefly in -the old days, I fancy. Now, will you come up and see -the bedrooms?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take a turn outside if I may," said Rosmead. -"My sister will accompany you, Miss Mackinnon. I'm -perfectly satisfied with what I have seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you find your way? There are two staircases, -but you can get out by either," said Isla, and they stood -just a moment on the narrow landing till Rosmead had -found his way out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He passed out into the mellow sunshine of the afternoon -with a sense of relief. The old house saddened -him. It seemed to be peopled with dead hopes and with -old memories and to have no kinship with the warm and -happy life of men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he stepped on the gravel the sound of wheels broke -the stillness, and a dogcart, in which was a beautiful, -high-stepping chestnut horse, was rapidly driven up to -the door. It contained two persons--a man and a -woman, both young--who had evidently come to pay a -call at Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Raising his hat slightly, he turned aside to walk round -by the gable-end of the house in order to see it from the -back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just beyond the rolled gravel he came upon another -pathetic sight--the old General in his Inverness cloak -and with his bonnet on his thin white hair, leaning -heavily on his stick and watching the antics of a little -brown dog in front of a rabbit-hole. He was quite alone; -and Rosmead, in whom reverence for the old was a -passion as well as a virtue, involuntarily took off his -hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come back, you little vixen!" the old man called -with a little chuckle to the brown dog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, just at the moment, Janet, conscious of the -approach of a stranger, gave a short, sharp bark and ran -back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The General looked round and, seeing the stranger, -took his bonnet from his head. Rosmead had then no -alternative but to introduce himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Rosmead, sir. I am here owing to -correspondence with Mr. Cattanach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cattanach? Oh, yes--very decent fellow, Cattanach, -but not a good writer. Have you seen my daughter, -and has your horse been put up?" he said with all the -fine dignity of the hospitable old laird, always ready to -welcome the stranger within his gates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have only a hired trap, and it is waiting in the -stable-yard. We have to get back to catch the -four-thirty train."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes. Well, you will see my daughter, and you -will at least have some tea before you go away. Can I -direct you back to the house? I was taking my walk in -the sun. I am not so strong as I was, and I have to -choose my days. That is what we have to come to, sir,--we -choose our days, when they are not chosen for us. -Well, if you can find your way back to the house, I shall -continue my walk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He touched his bonnet and turned away, as if he had -dismissed the man and the incident from his mental -vision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead immediately grasped the whole facts. He -saw that the old man was wholly detached from the -affairs of life, and more and more his heart ached with -compassion for Isla Mackinnon. He walked right round -the house, admiring its outline, even the huddled little -towers touching his fancy, and he made up his mind on -the spot that this should be his future dwelling-place. -No matter what should be the price, he would pay it, -because something told him that here was a place in -which his money could be of use.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something deeper, however--the conviction -that destiny had willed it that his life was somehow to -be bound up with this old house and its inmates. The -idea appealed to him and gave him a quickened interest -in the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he returned to the drawing-room in about ten -minutes' time he found that it now contained four -persons--his sister and their hostess and the two who -had arrived to call.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is Mr. Rosmead, Kitty," said Isla, in whose -face the pink spot of excitement burned again. "Miss -Drummond, Mr. Neil Drummond, Mr. Rosmead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead gravely saluted, but though Kitty beamed -upon the handsome stranger, Neil was hostile. His face -positively gloomed, and he had hardly a word to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His manners did not show to advantage that day. -He seemed a boor beside the smooth, polished man of -the world that Rosmead, by contrast, appeared. When -tea was brought, it was Rosmead who established himself -by the table, leaving his sister to chatter to the -Drummonds. He did this of a set purpose, because he -wished to say a word in Isla's private ear, and there did -not seem to be any opportunity--unless he made one--of -saying it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Mackinnon, Mr. Cattanach has told you that -we are anxious to get settled soon on account of my -mother's health. Do you think you could give me a -definite answer as to what you intend to do regarding -the letting of the house to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, easily. If you care for it, now you have seen -it, please take it," she answered without looking up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tone of her voice slightly disconcerted him, -because he knew that her depth of feeling must be -occasioning her the greatest pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We would not hurry you--or seem to embarrass you -in any way. My mother is the kindest and most reasonable -of women, and I hope that you will permit her to -know you if she comes to Achree. Are you likely to -stay in the neighbourhood?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she answered, and her breath came a little -faster. "We are going to the lodge at Creagh, at the -other side of the moor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The information seemed to please him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, perhaps you will write to Mr. Cattanach when -your arrangements are made."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I will do so, but there is something I must say -first. I tried to say it to your sister, but somehow I -could not," she said, still hurriedly and with her eyes -on her tray. "I am sure that you will find that the -house needs many things. We have been so poor that -it has not been replenished, as it would have been in -different circumstances. That must be taken into -consideration in settling the question of the rent to be paid. -I will tell Mr. Cattanach so. I hope I make myself -plain?" she said, lifting her eyes to his face when he -gave her no answer. "I am saying, Mr. Rosmead, that -we can't spend any money on the house, and that whatever -you find it lacks you will supply for yourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I quite understand that. Pray, don't speak of -it--it is not worth mentioning. I understand that it is a -sacrifice for you to let us have the house at all. I wish -I did not realize that so keenly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him again, and the expression in her -eyes wholly changed. The child-look came back--the -look of trust, of ingenuousness, of innocent sweetness, -and it moved Rosmead profoundly. A very reticent, -self-contained, observant man, he was interested and -drawn by the tragedy, the unfathomable sadness of this -girl's life. To possess Achree, and thus to come within -sight and possible touch of Isla Mackinnon, had -suddenly become to him a matter of personal moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was not so with Isla; she liked him; she was -grateful to him for his reticence and his consideration, -but to her he was simply the man who wanted Achree, -and for whom they must leave it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are very kind, but in a matter of this kind -business must be the basis," she said presently, with a -sudden return of her original hauteur. "I shall write -to Mr. Cattanach to-night, and ask him to arrange things. -Our removal to Creagh is only a matter of two or three -days for the gathering together of our few personal -belongings--that is all. I hope there will not be any -difficulties in the way, and that you will be able to -come to Achree, for your mother's sake, at the time you -wish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His next words arrested her attention, in spite of -herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If there are difficulties I shall do my best to -overcome them. That has been the business of my life up -till now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you mean?" she asked with an involuntary -interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a builder of bridges," he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the Laird of Garrion, glowering like -his own moor in a snell winter day, came stalking across -the room, his step and his manner indicating that he -considered that the stranger had already presumed too -much.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead, in no way perturbed, drew out his watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sadie, it's time we went if we are to catch that train," -he said to his sister, who, deep in girlish talk with -Kitty Drummond, rose reluctantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The good-byes were quickly made, and, though her -more kindly impulses prompted Isla to go down and -speed the parting guests, she bade them good-bye at the -drawing-room door with the slightest suggestion of -stiffness, and left Diarmid to show them out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are these people, Isla?" asked Drummond impetuously -the moment the door closed. "He's insufferable. -Whence these airs of his? Who is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rich American, and they are likely to take Achree -for six months, or perhaps a year," answered Isla quietly, -realizing that the thing could not be any longer hid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kitty gave a little exclamation of dismay, but on -Drummond's face the scowl rose again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let Achree! Heaven forbid! Isla, you won't do it. -It's unthinkable--it's--it's, I want to say it, only I -mustn't. Kitty, go down and find the General. I must -speak to Isla alone."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-bridge-builders"><span class="large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE BRIDGE BUILDERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Kitty did not look so surprised as might have been -expected. She walked with alacrity to the door in spite -of Isla's rather eager protest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's my belief, Isla, that you shut up the poor old -General to prevent people from seeing him. I should -not be at all surprised to find him in the dungeon-room," -she said saucily over her shoulder as she disappeared -round the sharp turning of the stair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla reluctantly re-entered the drawing-room, fully -aware of what was coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't, Neil," she said, lifting a deprecating hand. -"It has got to be done, so there isn't any use of talking -about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Isla!" he groaned, "it can't be done. Why, -it will kill the General! Does he know what is in -contemplation?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have tried to tell him, but he can't understand," -said Isla pitifully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll understand quickly enough when it comes to -the bit--when you take him away from the old house. -Why, it's the house he was born in, and he can't leave -it now when he is old and frail. It's worth any sacrifice -to let him have his last days in peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is; but I have made all the sacrifices possible, and -have reached the end of my tether. If somebody could -awaken the sense of sacrifice in Malcolm it would be -different."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Malcolm will be furious! Have you written and -asked him, for after all he's the heir, you know, and a -step--a big, drastic, horrible step like letting a -property--can't be, or at least ought not to be, taken without -consulting the heir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla smiled drearily as she dropped into a chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her old friend's anger was quite understandable and -natural; but, oh, if people only knew how futile it all was!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, Neil. I thought of telling you the other day -when we went to Glasgow together, but it was too new -and raw then. Of course, that was the business I had -to see Cattanach about. It is Malcolm who has caused -this--who has wrought the red ruin of Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond was silent before the poignancy of her -tone. Nor could he say that he was altogether -astonished, since he knew Malcolm Mackinnon, and was -fully aware of part at least of his unspeakable folly and -misdoing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I may as well tell you now," went on Isla hotly. -"Soon it will be the common property of the glen. -Malcolm has had to send in his papers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God, Isla, you don't say so!" said Drummond, and -his fresh, kindly face grew a little white under the shock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes--and he owes over two thousand pounds to -money-lenders, and our account is over-drawn at the -bank. So now you know why the Americans must come -to Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leaned back, and a small, very dismal smile just -hovered about the corners of her sad, proud mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil Drummond could scarcely have looked more -thunderstruck and overwhelmed had the disaster come -to his own Garrion, nor could he have felt it more acutely. -He took a turn across the floor, and then he came and -stood in front of her, his broad shoulders squared, a -sudden look of strength and determination upon his -kindly face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you let us know before things got to this -stage, Isla? What are friends for--that's what I'd like -to know? Your silence just shows what a poor place, -after all, any of us have in your estimation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, Neil. But don't you see it was such a big, -desperate, hopeless thing that nobody could give any -help in the matter? And the dearer the friends are, the -more impossible it would be to take money from them. -You must understand that. You do understand it--only -it pleases you to be denser than I have ever known you -in the whole course of our acquaintance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The whole course of our acquaintance!" he repeated, -half-eagerly, half-wistfully. "It's been spread over a -pretty long period of years now, hasn't it, Isla?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but it looks like centuries. To-day I feel a -century old myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you're needing, my dear, is somebody to take -care of you," he said with a great gentleness. "I must -speak again, though I promised to be silent till you gave -me leave to speak. Won't you let me step into the -breach, Isla? Marry me, and I'll do my best to smooth -things over, and the General shall certainly not leave -Achree. Garrion coffers are not so very full just at -present, but I think there might be enough raised to -prevent that unthinkable catastrophe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't, Neil, I can't! Don't say another word about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not asking anything," he said with the humbleness -born of a really unselfish love--"only the right to take -care of you and shield you and, if need be, fight for you. -Malcolm is your brother, Isla, but I'd like to get into -grips with him just once to punish him for all these lines -that have come on your dear face through him. And if -he comes back to the glen I'll tell him what I think of -him, even if it should be the last word I speak in this -world!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is easier to have one's men folk killed in wars, -Neil," she said in a low voice. "Last week Lady Eden -was bewailing Archie's death, even though she had his -little V.C. on the table beside her. I could have cried -out to her to go down on her knees and thank God -because he is safe from all hurt and evil. She does not -begin to know the meaning of sorrow, as we know it here. -I have only one consolation--that my father will never -now be able to grasp the real meaning of what has -happened. You'll have to help me to keep it from him--to -talk and to act as if nothing out of the common had -occurred; and you must promise to come and to bring -Kitty to see us at Creagh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At Creagh!" cried Drummond aghast. "You don't -mean to say that you are going to bury yourselves in -that God-forsaken hole? Oh, my dear, Garrion may be -bad, but at least it is get-at-able. Shut up in Creagh, -with the General and with Malcolm when he comes -home!--it will be the death of you, Isla."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, I take a lot of killing. Do be a bit more -cheerful, Neil. I'm sure you must have thought the -Americans quite nice people. He is charming, I think. -He builds bridges in America, and Cattanach says that -he is a man of genius."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He may build what he likes, but if he comes to -Achree, whatever the price he pays, he commits the -unpardonable sin," he said sourly. "Don't let us talk -about him. I'm waiting for an answer to my question. -It isn't much I ask, Isla. I promise not to molest you -or to beg for your love, though I'll do my best to win it. -Why is it that you won't believe in me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I do, Neil. It is because I like you so much that -I won't marry you," she answered frankly, but a little -wearily. "You deserve something so much better than -a half-hearted wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd rather have the half or the quarter of you than -the whole of any other woman," he made answer in -the reckless way of the lover. "At least, promise me -that if you should change your mind, that if things -should get desperate, you'll come to me? A word will -be enough, Isla--even a look. I'll fly to your bidding -on the wings of the wind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Neil, I wish that all this eloquence and this -devotion could be given to a better woman----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She doesn't exist," put in the lover stoutly. "Now, -tell me about Malcolm. What is the meaning of this -horrible thing that has happened, and who told you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He told me himself in last week's letter. Oh, yes--he -minds, of course, but he thinks he has been unjustly -treated. Somebody is always treating Malcolm unjustly, -you know; and, whatever happens, it is always another -person's fault."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it must be very serious, my dear. Has there -been any other communication--anything from his -Colonel, or the War Office for the General?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No--nothing; and when anything comes I shall -intercept it," she replied without the smallest hesitation. -"What is concerning me most is that, in about three -weeks' time, Malcolm will be at home, loafing about idle -in the glen, and I shall never know a moment's ease of -mind. That's the redeeming feature of Creagh--it's at -least five miles from everywhere. But, of course, he -can't be permitted to loaf about. He must find some -occupation. I wonder----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped there, however, and Neil was left to -conjecture what it was that she wondered. He would not -have been so well pleased had he known that her thoughts -had flown with a curious sense of restfulness and hope -to the man who had just left them. The hated man -had said that the business of his life was to demolish -difficulties and to build bridges where none had been -before. Could he--or would he--undertake the problem -of Malcolm's life?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kitty returned while that question was still lingering -in Isla's mind, and, after a little more desultory talk, -the brother and sister took their departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell Kitty on the way home, Neil," whispered Isla -as she bade him good-bye, her fingers aching under -his strong, almost painful, pressure which was intended -to convey all the thoughts of which his heart was full.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give Aunt Betty my love, and tell her that I will -pay her a visit before I go to Creagh," she added. "Yes, -of course, tell her about Malcolm too, but don't say too -much about it, and, of course, outside Garrion----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laid a significant finger on her lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil nodded, and, with gloom sitting on his brow, -ascended to his high perch on the dogcart and tucked -the rug about his sister's knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next three weeks passed in a whirl of business -for Isla Mackinnon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The very next morning after the visit of the Americans -to Achree she had Jimmy Forbes up from Lochearn to -drive her to Creagh. The sun was shining so brightly -and the air was so soft and balmy that all of a sudden -she decided that the drive might do her father good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had only just come down from his bedroom and -was standing in the doorway, enjoying the air, when the -trap drove up, and Isla came down the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you for this morning, my dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to Creagh. Will you go with me, dear? -I have some particular business to do at Creagh this -morning, and it's so deliciously sunny and warm and I -think the drive would do you good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I'd like to go," said the old man with the wistful -pleasure of the child, at the same time taking a critical -look at the stout roan cob that had come up from the hotel -stable, well and fit for the rough road over Creagh moor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It did not take Isla and Diarmid long to wrap the -General up, and off they went through the pleasant -spring sunshine, mounting slowly all the time until they -reached the broad plateau of the moor of Creagh, which -was the one valuable asset of Achree and constituted its -only claim to the dignity of being a sporting estate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lodge stood at the far angle of the moor, about a -mile across from the road--a small, bare, ugly house -which made no pretence to being anything more than a -shelter for sportsmen. It was well protected by a clump -of sturdy fir trees, and it had even a fertile bit of garden -ground behind, with a small glass-house, and excellent -stables. It was furnished throughout, and it was in the -care of Margaret Maclaren, an old pensioner of Achree -and widow of a former keeper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a faithful servant who attended well to her -duties whether her employers were there to see her or -not, and she was not at all put out by the unexpected -arrival of the trap from Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bathed in the glorious noon sunshine, the place looked -its best, and even the interior did not seem at all amiss. -All the windows were open to the sun, and Isla's sharp -eyes noted the complete absence of damp, which was -her chief enemy at Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, isn't it pretty here?" she asked the General -as they stood for a moment in the porch before entering -the house. "I should like to come up and live the whole -summer here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would not be amiss in the summer, child. Many -a happy day have I spent in Creagh and many a jolly -night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She led him into the dining-room--a goodly-sized -square room, not unhandsomely furnished in oak, the -carpet rolled up in the middle of the floor, and faded -chintz covers over the leather chairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The open casement windows commanded a splendid -and uninterrupted view of the whole moor which, even -in its bareness and in the wildness of the winter, had a -certain rugged beauty of its own. A low hill rose -immediately behind the house, from which a glorious -prospect of the whole valley of the Earn could be seen, -with Ben Voirlich rising like a buttress behind all the -lesser hills in the valley below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The air was like wine, and Isla's spirits rose as she -grasped the possibilities of the simpler life there, in that -remote lodge in a wilderness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She quickly interviewed Margaret Maclaren, and in -her company she made a rapid survey of the dismantled -house, the result of which showed her that a very few -days would suffice to put it in order for their reception.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have let Achree for the season, Margaret," she said -in the most matter-of-fact voice she could command, -"and the new tenants want to come in at Easter. You -will thoroughly air and fire all the house, but more -especially my father's room above the dining-room. -These two rooms will be most exclusively his. We shall -eat in the little room at the back, while he has this for -his library and sitting-room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Isla, and hoo mony will come up from -Achree--of the servants, I mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only Diarmid, Margaret. You and he must just -manage. I will help all I can. If we find it too much, -your niece, Annie Chisholm, could be got. Perhaps this -will be necessary when we have Mr. Malcolm at home. -Yes--he is coming soon, and he will be here with us for -a few weeks at least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whatever secret wonder may have been in the soul of -Margaret Maclaren, she suffered none of it to be expressed -on her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was much pleased with her visit and with the -possibilities of the house, part of which she had forgotten. -She saw that her father, too, was pleased. He enjoyed -his walk about the place and constantly spoke of the -beautiful view from the front of the house across the -moor and down to Glenogle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take the reins down, Jamie," said Isla to the hotel -groom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were fairly out on the road she turned -rather anxiously to her father, talking to him in a low -voice which there was no possible chance of Jamie -overhearing as he was rather deaf at the best of times, and -was almost entirely devoid of curiosity--a trait in his -character worth mentioning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, I want to tell you something. Will you mind -very much if we come up to Creagh soon for the whole -summer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I think I should like it," he answered, unexpectedly. -"But you would find it very dull, wouldn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm never dull anywhere. You saw the folk who -came yesterday--the Americans, didn't you? I saw -Mr. Rosmead talking to you at the shrubbery."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw them--yes. Who were they and what brought -them to Achree? I don't remember having seen him -before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You haven't seen him before. He's a stranger--a -rich American, and I have let Achree to him for six -months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hand trembled a little on the reins, and she -half-expected either a petulant outburst or some other -demonstration of feeling that would vex and alarm her -soul and would harm the old man. But when, made -anxious by his silence, she turned to look at him, his -face only wore the perplexed expression of a child's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know for what reason you want to let the place, -Isla, or why anybody should wish to take it. But have -it your own way. I dare say we could be very comfortable -in Creagh unless, indeed, we have a wet summer. -Then we would get very sick of it. I suppose the new -folk would be willing to go out if we found it not possible -to live up here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They would be perfectly reasonable, I'm sure, father," -said Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her relief was so great that her features visibly relaxed, -and her eyes began to shine. She was getting on -famously. If only the latter part of the sad and sorry -business should prove as easy to arrange as the first had -been--why, then, perhaps she had been torturing herself -needlessly. She had scarcely had a good night's rest -since the arrival of the Indian mail, and the strain was -beginning to tell on her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I think I'll get you settled in Creagh comfortably -with Diarmid as soon as possible. Then, after you -are feeling quite at home, I think I shall go to Plymouth -to meet Malcolm's boat. I haven't had a holiday for -four years, father, and in the letter I had from Aunt -Jean the other day she said they were all going up from -Barras this week to Belgrave Square. So I'll take a few -days of London dissipation before I meet Malcolm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man made no demur. So great were his faith -and his trust in Isla that he seldom questioned any of her -doings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During that week the bargain was concluded with the -Rosmeads by Mr. Cattanach, after which a small -correspondence began between Isla and Rosmead concerning -certain minor repairs in the Castle that he wished to -execute at his own expense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days before they removed to Creagh he came -down himself, ostensibly for the purpose of explaining to -her that what he wished to effect was only a few small -improvements with a view to making the home more -comfortable for his mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla at first had resented the idea. Her Highland pride -even got the length of tempting her to write and tell the -man that he could either take the house as it was or -leave it. But she could not afford to do that, so she -relieved her feelings by writing the letter and then -consigning it to the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was, however, a rather subdued and coldly aggressive -Isla who met him on the occasion of his coming to pay -his second call. But when she saw him, she was ashamed -that she had written that letter and was glad that she -had had the sense to burn it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought that I had better come instead of writing in -reply to your last letter, Miss Mackinnon," he said -presently. "We were getting adrift from the main issue. -I want to explain that I don't propose to make any -structural alterations on the house. The stove that I -wrote about is an American invention for the heating of -unsatisfactory country houses where, for some reason or -other, the ordinary heating is difficult to arrange. It -will greatly add to my mother's comfort while she is here, -and it can be taken away when we leave. It will not -harm the house but, on the contrary, will benefit it by -drying it up. I think you mentioned to my sister that it -was a little damp."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very damp in parts," said Isla stoutly. "I am -not seeking to deny it. I am sorry I wrote like that about -the stove. You see," she added with her wandering smile -which to him was wholly pathetic, "I am new to the -business of house-letting, and you must be patient with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her brief anger and irritation vanished under his clear, -kind gaze, and the immensity of comfort and strength -that seemed to be created by his very presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may trust me to do nothing which would alter -the house out of your recognition," he said gently. "My -mother is an old lady, and her chest is weak. It is -absolutely necessary that she be kept warm and that no -damp should be allowed to come near her. We are -charmed with the house and with the kindness which -you showed to us that day we came. My sister has -never ceased to talk about it, and my mother is looking -forward very much to making your acquaintance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, but at the moor of Creagh we shall be -very much out of the way," said Isla softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A quick and strong car annihilates distance," he -reminded her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she made a quick little gesture of dissent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think the moor of silence would beat it," she -answered. "Well, I am taking my father up to Creagh -next Monday, and when I have settled him in it I am -going to London for a few days. The house will be quite -empty and ready for you from next Monday, and I hope -that you will not find it disappointing. At least I -haven't embroidered any of the facts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are going to London?" he said, as if surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I have to meet my brother's boat at Plymouth. -He is returning from India."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A soldier?" he ventured to ask, remembering the -General's rank and wondering at the dull flush that rose -to her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. But I think he may leave the Army for good. -My father's health is so very frail. Nothing can be -settled, however, till my brother comes home," she -answered, hating herself for the prevarication that her -clear conscience told her was nothing short of a lie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the pride in her burned high, and she would not -demean herself to this man who, with all his pleasant -ways and curious suggestion of power and strength, was -only a rich, new-made American, who could never be -expected to understand any of the feelings that lay -deep in the heart of a Mackinnon of Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Rosmead, he only smiled inwardly, attracted -by her moods, which were as changeful as the face of -Loch Earn. He was a builder of bridges, and the conquering -of obstacles was, as he had told her, his business.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could bide his time.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hope-of-achree"><span class="large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE HOPE OF ACHREE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When the "Jumna," an old troopship which had been -fitted out for second-rate traffic from India, slowly -approached her mooring in Plymouth Dock, Malcolm -Mackinnon, smoking at the rail, ran his eyes along the -waiting queue of expectant people at the landing-stage -without the remotest expectation of seeing anybody -belonging to him there. He knew the limitations of life -in Glenogle, and how very little journeying to and fro -on the face of the earth fell to the inmates of Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not resemble the Mackinnons in appearance. -He was short and thick-set, with his head set squarely -on his shoulders, and he had a ruddy, sun-burned face, -a pair of light blue eyes, a shifty mouth, and hair with -more than a touch of red in it. He was very like his -mother who had wrought confusion in Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, of course, did not know the full tragedy of her -father's sad married life. Only she did know that she -had been often impressed with the feeling and -conviction that Malcolm was alien to Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He might have been a changeling, so much did he -differ in everything from any Mackinnon among them. -Yet he had looks of a kind and a certain way with him -which won people and made them, even against their -better judgment, forgive him. This is a dangerous -possession for a man who is not endowed with a very high -sense of responsibility. It may at once be said that on -more than one occasion Malcolm Mackinnon had traded -on this happy-go-lucky, winning way of his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he saw Isla waving to him he gave a great start -of surprise, which was almost chagrin. He had made -several appointments in London, where he had intended -to spend a few pleasant days before his liberty should be -curtailed at Achree. His sister's presence would make -these days difficult, if not impossible. Then the wild -thought flashed through him that perhaps it meant that -something had happened to his father. A month is a -long time in a frail old man's life, and no one knew what -a day might bring forth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Isla was not in mourning, and her face was as -serene as usual. It would be unjust to say that he -wished for his father's death, but certainly had he -arrived in Scotland to find himself Laird of Achree, instead -of merely heir to it, it would have made a material -difference to his immediate comfort as well as to his -prospects. For his affairs were in a tangle from which -he did not know how he was going to extricate himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now he had to meet the first stage in the coming -of the inevitable Nemesis in the shape of Isla, whose -frank tongue he knew of yore. He was fond of her in a -way, and admired her greatly. He even wondered what -all the men were thinking of that she remained -unmarried at twenty-five. When he got nearer to her he -saw that she had aged but little, while he himself had -grown fat and gross, as will a man of his build who is -fond of drink and of good living.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isla, how awfully good of you to do this! I never -expected to see you or any of our ilk here," he exclaimed -in greeting. "How on earth did you manage it, and -how is the old man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father is very well. I thought I had better come to -meet you, because there are heaps of things to explain; -and besides, I felt that I wanted just a few days' change. -I'm at Belgrave Square."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face immediately fell. He did not like his Barras -cousins, nor did they like him. Nay, they highly -disapproved of him and all his works, and it was, he felt, -positively cruel of Isla to have laid him open to the -cross-questioning of the whole clan at the very moment -of his arrival in England.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the circumstances you might have spared me -that lot, Isla," he said with the gloom on his face that -she remembered so well. "I won't go to Belgrave Square--so -there!" he added positively. "There is a small -cheap hotel off the Strand will do me--that is, if I don't -go up north to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't told them anything," said Isla quietly. -"They only know that you are coming home, and, -fortunately for me, they don't seem a bit curious. Aunt -Jean was the only one who remarked about your getting -leave so soon again. You can please yourself about -going to the little hotel to sleep, but I promised that you -should dine at Belgrave Square to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, if they don't know anything and won't ask -awkward questions," he said with a breath of relief, "I -don't mind going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had some difficulty in preventing Marjorie and -Sheila from coming down. If they hadn't had a fitting -for a Court frock they would have insisted on it. Sheila -is going to be presented at the next drawing-room--on -7 May."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Malcolm, but his interest was of languid -order. "Well, I'd better see about my stuff. I haven't -much. I sold out all I could before I left. There are -always hard-up beggars in the regiment willing to buy, -and I knew I shouldn't want much in the glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again he spoke with airy inconsequence, as if nothing -was of any great importance. Isla was quite conscious -of a vivid and growing resentment. As she watched his -strong, well-knit figure busy among the few traps which -he was instructing one of the porters to collect, she -wondered how he dared to be so regardless as he was. -A grown man with a man's strength and ability of a -kind--yet nothing but a burden and a care to other folks, -to frail folks like an old man and a young woman. The -inequality and injustice of it imparted a most unusual -hardness to her face. She was hardly disappointed, -however, because Malcolm had always held his sins of -omission and commission lightly and feared only their -consequences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in his heart of hearts he did feel his latest -disgrace. A certain dogged dourness, however, would not -permit him to show it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After his meagre baggage had been collected there -was still no sign of the boat-train leaving, so they paced -the platform from end to end, talking together in low, -eager tones, indicative of the deep interest of the subject -under discussion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long do you intend to stop in London?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I only came down to meet you. I thought we -might go home on Friday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh well, if you like," he said, but she saw his face fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like to leave father any longer. He was very -good about my coming, and Kitty Drummond was to -go over to Creagh every day while I am away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Creagh, you say! Who's there now, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are. I have let Achree to some rich Americans, -and they went into residence yesterday, I believe, or at -least partly. They are doing a lot to the house, but -their tenancy dates from Easter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm stood still on the wooden pavement and -stared at her in genuine dismay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've let Achree, you say! In Heaven's name what -for, and who gave you leave?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody gave me leave. I took it; and you are the -last person who ought to ask why," she made answer -rather passionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But--but--" he stuttered, "whatever did the -governor say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said very little one way or other. I'm not even -sure if he grasped the fact. But at least he was quite -pleased to go to Creagh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Creagh--to that little one-horse place! Do you -mean to say that you propose to live there, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are living there," she answered steadily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you did this on your own, Isla? Well, I think -you had a jolly good cheek. The decent thing would -have been to wait till I came home at least. You won't -deny, surely, that I have a say in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know about the say. What I did know was -that if you came home the bargain would probably -never have been concluded."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what was it for, anyway?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned her small proud head to him, and her -clear eyes flashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Malcolm, I do really wonder what you are made of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Flesh and blood like other folks, and I can't get -away from this. How much are they paying?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five hundred a year with the shooting, and we -propose to live on three and to lay bye the other two to -help to pay off those terrible obligations you spoke of in -your letter, which has kept me awake more or less since -ever it came."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed airily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now that's just like a woman--to imagine that the -practice of small and most beastly uncomfortable -economies could do any good! Have you reckoned -out that it will take ten years at the rate you speak of -to get me clear? Most of us will be dead by that time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The train is going, thank God," said Isla in a high, -clear, outraged voice. "Let us get in. I don't want -to talk any more to you, Malcolm--either now or at any -other time. You--you are outside the pale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now take it easy, old girl. I made a clean breast of -it all just to show you that I was really penitent; and of -course I wasn't to blame for getting chucked. Any fool -in the Thirty-fifth will tell you that. But this little -attempt to pull the financial wires does strike a chap as -rather comical. What did old Cattanach say? I -suppose he's still at the helm--worse luck for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he is. I gave him your letter, Malcolm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deuce you did! Then you shouldn't have done -it. He's a fossil--knows nothing about life. But -there--don't let us quarrel about such things. I am jolly -glad to see you, old girl. And now I'll relieve you of all -these beastly sordid cares. But Creagh, good Lord!--and -not a bit of horse-flesh on the premises, I could bet -my bottom dollar! I think I must try and rake up a -motor-bike before I leave town; otherwise it will be like -being buried alive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The guard was calling London passengers to take their -seats, and they made haste into the nearest compartment, -which quickly filled up so that no further talk of -a private nature was possible. Isla was glad of it. She -had had enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she sat opposite to her brother who, immediately -the train started, composed himself in his corner for a -sleep, she had ample time to study his face. That study -filled her with a great and growing sadness. He was -just over thirty, and in all these years there were few -well-spent days. As a boy he had been a care and -trouble to his people and to his schoolmasters, and, in -these respects, the boy had been father to the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thought again with a little, faint, passing sight of -envy of the gallant boy whom the Edens had given to -their country, who had died a hero's death upon the -field. She told herself that had such a fate been -Malcolm's she could have thanked God for it. Then -she drew herself up with a little shudder, remembering -sharply certain Bible words which had no uncertain -sound--"Whoso hateth his brother is a murderer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not hate him--only her heart was very tired -and full of fear for the future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night, at the hospitable table of his uncle in -Belgrave Square, Malcolm shone with the best of them. -He was on his mettle, and he exerted himself to please, -showing a nice deference to his stately aunt as well as -to his jolly uncle, and he made himself perfectly -adorable to his cousins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla felt herself quite put in the background, but she -did not mind. It was even a relief not to think, but -just to sit still and let Malcolm's false light shine. -Soon enough they would have to know what had -happened, and then she knew that her Aunt Jean would -never forgive him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She came into Isla's room that night when the girl -was brushing her hair, and, touched by the expression -on her face, put a kindly question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, dear child? Don't you feel very well? -You haven't looked like yourself all day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm all right, Aunt Jean," Isla answered, but she -did not meet her aunt's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Malcolm is simply splendid! How improved he is! -What charming manners! After all, the Army is the -place for boys like Malcolm. Do you remember what -an anxiety he used to be to your father in the old days? -How proud of him he must be now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla did not answer--she simply could not. She felt -as if she must scream out loud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your uncle is delighted. They've been having a -long talk in the smoking-room. Must you really hurry -away on Friday, dear? We should simply love to have -you and Malcolm for another week. I could get up a -little dance for Malcolm. That sort of impromptu affair -is often most enjoyable and it really seems a shame to -go and bury him in Achree, or rather in Creagh, for so -long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't stop, Aunt Jean. You know how father is. -He is really quite frail, and I should not have an easy -mind after Friday, but Malcolm can stop if he likes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must ask him. How long has he, do you know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can ask him that, too, Aunt Jean," answered -Ida very low.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He isn't at all pleased about the letting of Achree. -From his point of view, it does seem a little hard. Why -did you do it, Isla, when you knew he was coming home -this year? Surely it could have waited at least till the -autumn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It couldn't wait. We had no money to go on with, -Aunt Jean," answered Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh but, my dear, your uncle or I would have come -to the rescue. What are folk for if they can't be made -use of in that direction?" asked Lady Mackinnon -almost playfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It didn't matter about the letting, auntie. Everybody -does it, and as for Malcolm, he is the very last person -who ought to complain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The voice was so hard that it slightly wounded the -woman who heard it. She stepped forward and lifted the -girl's chin in her hand and looked down into her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't get hard, Isla. It is so unbecoming to a -woman. I know that you have had a lot to think of, -but now that Malcolm has come home roll it off on to -his broad shoulders. It is what broad shoulders are -given to our menfolk for. And, above all, don't get -thinking that nobody can do things except yourself. -Don't you think you're just a wee bit inclined that way, -Isla?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I am all that way," answered Isla stolidly. -"I fully admit it. But don't imagine I like it, Aunt -Jean. The thing that I most want in this world is peace, -and I can't get it. Good night, auntie. I'm sorry that -I'm so disappointing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Mackinnon kissed her fondly, yet with a little -regret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isla's getting hard, Tom," she said to her husband -when he came up a little later. "It's very bad for a -girl to lose her mother, though in Isla's case, of course, -it would have been worse if her mother had been spared. -Don't you notice how hard and dull she has got to be -of late? What a pity she couldn't marry! She used -to be quite pretty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Used to be, Jean! What are you talking about?" -asked Sir Tom rather irritably. "She's pretty yet, with -the sort of beauty that a man doesn't tire of, and she's -clever too. Depend on it, if Isla's hard she has had -something to make her so. Malcolm's charming, of -course, and much improved, but just once or twice -to-night I felt that he didn't ring true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, Tom. We have been out of the world -too long and haven't marched with the times. I should -like them to stop for a week or two, but Isla won't hear -of it. She says she must go on Friday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let Isla alone. She knows her own business best. -As for Malcolm, please yourself, but I haven't got at the -bottom of the meaning of this leave of his yet. It's -unusual. I shouldn't wonder to hear that there is -something behind it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Mackinnon did not take her husband's words at -all seriously. She had no son, and her heart warmed to -Malcolm, and she fell asleep, thinking how blessed she -would have been among women had he been hers. Another -of the mistakes this into which poor humanity, -seeing through a glass darkly, is so liable to fall!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning Isla left the house about eleven o'clock -to go to an obscure street on the other side of Bayswater -for the purpose of calling on an old servant at Achree, -who had married a butler, and who now conducted a -small boarding-house off the Edgeware Road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a lovely spring morning, and she said she -would prefer to walk across the Park. She greatly -enjoyed that walk. The wide spaces of the Park, the -enchanting glimpses through the trees which, though still -bare, were beautiful with the sun upon their delicate -tracery of branch and bough, seemed to fill her soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not greatly care for London life, and she often -wondered a little at her cousins' enthusiasm over balls -and routs, and all the treadmill of fashionable society. -They were so excited over their Court frocks that their -dreams were haunted by chiffons and festoons of lace -and Court trains hung from slender shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla indeed was far too grave for her years. She had -been cheated of her youth. Even she herself did not -know what possibilities for frivolity and fun her nature -held, nor how gay she could have been had not care, like -a gaunt spectre, walked so long by her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her discomfort about Malcolm was keen this morning. -Even the gracious influence of the sun could not -altogether banish it. But it helped, and her face looked -very sweet under the brim of her simple hat, and more -than one pair of eyes filled with admiration as she -passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left the park at the Marble Arch, crossed the road, -and made her way along the Edgeware Road to Cromar -Street, where Mrs. Fraser lived. It was not her first visit, -and Agnes having been apprised of her coming, was on -the doorstep to welcome her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ye are, Miss Isla--a sight for sair een! I have -been so put about wi' joy all this morning that I have -not been able to do my work. How are you, and how is -all at dear Achree?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, so, Agnes," answered Isla with a smile as she -grasped the faithful servant's hand and passed across her -hospitable threshold. "You look wonderfully well. I -hope that Fraser is too, and the children, and that -everything is going right with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla possessed to the full the faculty of binding those -who served her to her with hooks of steel, she was so -sweetly kind and interested in everything concerning -them. Yet she held their respect, and no servant, even -the least satisfactory, had ever been known to presume -in the smallest degree upon any kindness shown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat down in Agnes Fraser's ugly, heavy dining-room, -which reeked of stale tobacco smoke, but which -represented the greater part of her living, being let, with -bedroom accommodation, to two permanencies who paid -her well. And there Isla listened to the whole recital of -the good woman's affairs. It occurred to Agnes only after -Isla had gone, at the end of an hour's time, that she had -really heard very little about Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Isla had risen to depart, she had said with a -smile: "If you are coming to the glen this summer, -Agnes, you will have a longer walk to get to us. We -have gone to live at Creagh for the season, and Achree -is let to some Americans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes looked the dismay she felt, but abstained from -comment and only remarked that she hoped they had -made Creagh comfortable, and that they would not find -it too dull.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But after the door was shut upon her visitor she wept -tears of sorrow because the glory was departed from -Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her last duty done, Isla's thoughts as she left the -house began to revert with persistent longing to the glen. -She had neither part nor lot in cities, and she could not -understand the craze that people had for this great, -overgrown London, where folk were always in a hurry -and falling over one another in their haste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fraser's house was well up the street, and Isla, -walking quite fast and wrapped up in her own thoughts, -had no eyes for any of those who passed her. But -presently she came to the corner house of a little street -near the Marble Arch end of the road. The door opened -as she passed, and two persons came out, so close upon -her that she could not but notice them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then her heart gave a sickly bound, and she sped on -without once looking back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Malcolm who came out of that house, and there -was with him a woman, an impossible woman--that was -the impression Isla carried away--a large, tall person, -with an abundance of yellow hair and an enormous black -hat perched upon it. Handsome in a way she might be, -and her smile as she had made some jesting remark to -her companion had been dazzling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it did not dazzle Isla. She grew cold all over, -and, without waiting on her better judgment, which -might have urged some quite simple explanation, she -jumped to the conclusion that Malcolm had some -entanglement which was at the bottom of his downfall.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-home-coming"><span class="large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE HOME-COMING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Having been made free of his aunt's house, Malcolm -arrived at Belgrave Square that afternoon in time for tea. -The room seemed quite full of people, for the young -Mackinnons were a gay crowd, never happier than when -surrounded by their friends. Somebody had said that -the London season was to be Scottish that year, and there -were heaps of their own immediate friends already settled -in town.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was greatly in request, and it was about twenty -minutes before Malcolm got a chance of having a word -with her. He came up to her jauntily with an air of the -utmost unconcern, and, as he might have expressed it, -took the bull by the horns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why were you in such a hurry this morning, Isla, -and what were you doing in the purlieus of the Edgeware -Road? Don't you know that's the wrong side of the Park -altogether?" he said teasingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I might say the same to you," she answered a trifle -tartly, and her eyes, which seemed to have acquired a -distaste for his face, did not meet his gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was doing my duty--and a beastly fagging bit of -duty it was too, a little commission for a pal in -India--and, as I'd made up my mind to go north with you -to-morrow if you really are bent on going, this was my only -opportunity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It sounded a perfectly plausible explanation, and -Isla suffered her somewhat unwilling eyes to dwell for a -moment on his smiling face. Never did man look more -innocent and ingenuous. There was not the flicker of a -lid or a tinge of colour to condemn him. Knowing -perfectly well that her scrutiny was judicial, he met it -without flinching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not like the look of the woman, Malcolm," was -all she said. "But please, I don't want to hear any more -about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It can hardly be said that she was convinced, but only -that she realized the utter futility of trying to get to the -bottom of Malcolm's mind or of ever reaching his real -self. What that self would be like when she reached it -she did not ask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But a little later, watching his matchless manner -with his aunt's guests and the way in which he held his -little court of admiring womenkind about him, she -marvelled at his powers. So long as he possessed such -faculties of pleasing and could attract those with whom he -came into contact, nobody need wonder at his gay aplomb. -Nothing could greatly matter, for whoever might suffer or -go under, it would not be Malcolm. He would sail--a -little unsteadily perhaps, but still successfully--on the -crest of the wave, and only those who knew him -intimately and who had suffered through him would ever -probe the depths of his colossal selfishness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the estimate of her brother at which Isla had -now arrived. The trials and hardships of the last three -years had wrought a great change in her outlook upon -men and things and had made her judgment a little -merciless. In fact this was a very critical moment in -the history of Isla Mackinnon, and but for the timely -introduction of some fresh forces into her life she might -have become a really hard woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm airily declined his aunt's rather pressing -invitation to stay a week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll return, dearest aunt, a little later, when the Glen -begins to pall," he whispered with that little air of -personal devotion and interest which even old women found -so charming. "Behold the gloom on Isla's face! She -represents my duty. I shall take her home to-morrow, -Pay my humble respects to the old man, and syne, if you -will have me, I'll be only too glad to come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Mackinnon nodded, well pleased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come up in time for the Court. Marjorie and Sheila -will never be satisfied till you see them in all their -bravery. And we'll give a ball for you if you do come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, my lady," said Malcolm with extreme satisfaction. -"Fix the date and I'll come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so sorry about Isla. I keep telling her not to take -life so seriously," said Lady Mackinnon, her kind eyes -wandering in the direction of her niece. "As I told her -last night, it is you who ought to bear the burden of -Achree. It's robbing her of her youth. She has changed -greatly in the last year, don't you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and gone off decidedly, but there----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave his shoulders a little shrug which expressed -much that he did not say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dined at Belgrave Square that night and showed -another side of him--the grave, quiet, attentive side, -which pleased his relatives equally, if not even more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why am I distrait?" he asked, when Marjorie twitted -him with his quietude. "Well, the windbag was pricked -last night. I couldn't sleep in my hard hotel bed for -thinking of all the gas I had let out. It was pure -exuberance of joy at again finding myself in such an -atmosphere after hard service and a month on that -beastly boat. Here's to our next merry meeting! Uncle -Tom, Aunt Jean--the best of luck and nothing short of -coronets for these fair heads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they all laughed, and the last memory of the -evening was as pleasant as possible. Next morning the -whole family were at Euston to see the brother and -sister off, and they duly departed in the full odour of -family farewells.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's over, thank goodness," said Malcolm as -he dropped into his corner. A judicious word and a tip -from Uncle Tom had secured them a compartment to -themselves, in which they could talk of their private -affairs. "Now, it'll be the tug-of-war--eh, Isla? Don't -look so glum, old girl. Believe me, there isn't anything -in life worth it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to be glum, but I have felt rather mean -these two days, Malcolm. Perhaps we ought to have -told Uncle Tom and Aunt Jean. Didn't you feel that -we were there under false pretences? They would have -felt differently, I mean, if they had known that you -had sent in your papers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shrugged his shoulders, tossed his cap to the rack, -and took out his cigarette case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mind if I take a whiff? I suppose it would -have made a difference, but why intrude unpleasant -topics until one can't avoid them? That's a pretty good -and safe philosophy of life, Isla--to lie low and keep -dark about what can't be helped."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will know before you go back to London again, -that is, if you were serious about going to them in May."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything may happen between now and the month -of May. The thing is to grease the ropes. Now, what -earthly good would it have done to have told them the -real state of affairs? It would only have depressed -them and made us all most beastly uncomfortable. By -the by, as we are on the subject, may I inquire how -many people in the Glen you have told?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only Neil Drummond."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That young, unlicked cub! And why, in Heaven's -name, should you have told him? Are you engaged to -him--or what? There must be some reason why he -should be taken into the family's most private counsels."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had to tell somebody, and it was in a manner -forced on me," she said rather coldly. "But you need -not be afraid of Neil telling anyone. He feels it too -much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very kind of him, I'm sure. Well now, tell me -something about this American chap. Is he a bounder, -like the rest of them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he's a gentleman, Malcolm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's an elastic term. Do you mean that he wears -good clothes and that sort of thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I don't mean that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, he's a thorough good chap that a fellow might -know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, with a vision of Rosmead's calm, strong, fine face -in front of her, sat back suddenly and began to laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the joke?" asked Malcolm, mildly surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she did not give him any satisfaction. She felt -tempted to say that very probably had Rosmead known -the facts of the case he might have declined the honour -of Malcolm's acquaintance. She told herself, however, -that she must try not to break the bruised reed. Yet -there was not much of the appearance of the bruised -reed about the airy Malcolm, who looked as if he had -not a care in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was very kind and amusing on the journey, telling -her lots of stories of his Indian experiences. More than -once she felt herself almost completely succumbing to -his spell and inclined to accept without reservation his -own estimate of himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was dark when they reached the station at Lochearnhead, -where the wagonette from the hotel was waiting -for them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm elected to sit on the driver's seat and to take -the reins from Jamie Forbes, and so Isla was left to her -own contemplations in the roomy space behind. She -was not sorry that it was so. Once more back in the -Glen, she experienced a return of all her cares, accentuated, -because the biggest one, embodied in the flesh, was -in front, carrying on an animated conversation with -Jamie, from whom, in a few minutes' time, he wrested -the whole gossip of the Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He learned that the hotel business was flourishing -exceedingly, now that the making of the new railway -line was coming near the head of the Loch. It had -been started only a year when Malcolm last went away, -and now they were at work on the viaduct, which had -just escaped being built on Achree land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only we'd been a mile lower down the Glen, Isla!" -he looked round to say. "We might have had a haul -off the Railway Companies, but that's just our luck all -through. We miss it every time by the skin of our -teeth. Do you mind if I just stop at the hotel and pass -the time of day with Miss Macdougall?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't stop long, then, Malcolm. I want to get home -to father as quickly as possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat with what patience she might for ten minutes -while he was inside the hotel getting a drink, and soon -after he had resumed his seat they began the gradual -ascent of Glenogle. She was conscious of a quickened -heart-beat as they came near to Achree; and presently -the blaze of its lights could be seen through the trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, Isla--no stint there!" he called over his -shoulder. "Achree has never been illuminated like that -within the memory of man. What are they saying -about the new folk in the Glen, Jamie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They like them not that pad, sir. They are fery -civil-spoken and kind, forpy peing likely to spend a heap -of money. They are fery anxious that whoefer hass -things to sell in the Glen shall pring them to Achree. -There are not many like that come now to the Glen, -Maister Malcolm. The most of them do nothing put -send for big boxes to come from the store. They will pe -well likit, I'm thinking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, it sounds idyllic," said Malcolm drily, the -meaning of which adjective Jamie did not grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems a shame to pass by the old place. I'm down -to-morrow if I'm a living man, Americans or no -Americans," said Malcolm to Isla. "Has he any women-folk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you about them later," she answered, and her -voice shook a little, for she too felt a qualm as they -passed by the gate and the little lodge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a long cold climb to the Moor of Creagh, and -she was heartily sick of it before they drew up at the -unpretentious white gate from which a straight, short -drive led up to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid was in the porch to meet and welcome them, -and, though there was an odd shrinking in the old man's -eyes as they travelled with a look of anxious reproach to -the young Laird's face, Malcolm himself seemed quite -unaware of it. He grasped the old man's hand cordially, -asked for his welfare, and then passed in to where the -old General, holding himself rather erect and proudly, -though leaning hard on his stick, was peering through -the dim light for sight of his son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There can be no man who is wholly bad, and the sight -of big father--that pathetic and yet noble figure, a brave -soldier who had spent himself for his country, shook -Malcolm Mackinnon as his sister's appealing eyes had -altogether failed to do. He now realized that if his -father was ever able to grasp the fact of his dismissal -from the Army it would kill him. He should never know, -Malcolm swore to himself, as he bent low and ashamed -over the outstretched hand and saw the quiver of the -thin, pale face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How are you, sir?" faltered Malcolm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Isla, seeing his expression and noting the tremor -in his voice, placed that bit of genuine feeling to his -credit and wiped something off the slate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to see you home, my boy, though this is a -queer little house you are come to. Ask Isla about that. -She's the culprit, but it's a very comfortable place, and -I like it well. We'll have some happy days here, my -son. Welcome home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to see you well, father," answered Malcolm, -though in truth he did not think the old man looked -long for this world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there was a greeting of sheer affection for Isla, -and a look passed between father and daughter which -told of a most perfect understanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm had a sniff of scorn for the cramped little -house and, when presently, with the grime of his journey -washed off and his dinner-jacket on, he came to the -queer little room for the evening meal, he looked round -rather grimly until his significant gaze rested on his -sister's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll never be able to stick it, Isla," he said in his -most aggressive tones. "There isn't room in it to swing -a cat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man was in good form. The coming of his -son seemed to awaken him for a little space to a fresh -interest in life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was there anything brought up from Achree cellar, -Diarmid?" he asked as the old servant passed the plates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir," answered Diarmid, not daring to say how -very low the cellar at Achree had fallen and how its -precious store had been diminished without the smallest -hope of replenishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were very abstemious folks at Achree, and the -General, being forbidden all stimulants except a little -whisky when he needed it, had hitherto asked no questions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bottle of Pommery, then, to drink Mr. Malcolm's -health," he said, with the air of old times, when there -had been big parties round the table at Achree and when -the wine had flowed at his bidding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid looked desperately--imploringly at his young -mistress, who rose, smiling slightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Pommery had long since disappeared; but, in -anticipation of this reunion, she had laid in one bottle -of champagne in order that her father might not be -disappointed. So it was brought and duly drawn by -Diarmid, who filled the glasses and then helped his -master to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Welcome home, my son. Long life, good health, -and honourable prosperity to you and to Achree. God -bless you and make you a blessing. Isla, my dear, your -best health."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's eyes suddenly swam in tears, and Malcolm had -the good feeling to bend his head in honest shame. The -General did little more than taste from his glass and -then set it down with a little sigh of disappointment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is bad for good wine to be shifted," he said. -"Never mind, Malcolm. When we go back to Achree -you shall have your pick of the cellar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wine was good. The change was in his palate, -which had lost its verve. He was very tired after -dinner, and his rambling thoughts could not be kept in -check. He babbled a good deal of old days, for which -indeed Isla was thankful, since it kept him from asking -questions about the present ones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had dreaded what might happen on the night of -the home-coming, but she now clearly saw that her -father was less and less likely to disturb himself about -any untoward happenings. He accepted everything--a -circumstance which certainly considerably relieved the -strain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He looks jolly bad, poor old chap," said Malcolm, -when Isla came down about ten o'clock from seeing him -safely in bed. "He can't last long. It was a pity that -you didn't let him see it out at Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has not got any worse in the last six months -that I can see. Of course the excitement to-night wore -him out. He will be brighter in the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I still think it was a beastly shame to bring him up -here. There isn't even decent comfort. This is the -only room worth mentioning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he has it. He is quite comfortable," said Isla, -stoutly. "We must take what is left."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In wet weather, of which Glenogle has its full share, -we shall fight like Kilkenny cats," said Malcolm with a -grimace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla passed over the vulgarity of the remark in silence, -and, after a moment, said quite straightly. "But surely -you won't stop long in the Glen, Malcolm. You'll try to -get an appointment of some kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd be glad if you'd mention the sort of appointment -I'd be likely to get," he answered carelessly. "I -must say it's very cold cheer you have for a chap, Isla, -after three years' absence. If I weren't the most -unsuspicious of men I might suspect you of having underhand -motives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, staring hard into the crackling embers of the -peat-fire, answered nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It strikes me from all I can gather that the place -wants a good deal of looking into. I'll make that my -first business. I thought them all slack when I was -home before, and Heaven only knows what they'll be -like now. Then, I must be on the spot on account of -the way the old man is. I shouldn't like to be out of -the way if anything should happen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla rose to her feet and bade him good night. She -had had just about as much as her tired body and -strained mind could stand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead men's shoes" were the words that beat upon -her brain through the hours of a restless night.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="malcolm-s-prospects"><span class="large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">MALCOLM'S PROSPECTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It is the mission of the morning to clear the air, and -next morning things looked brighter. The sun shone -out gloriously, and the air was soft and balmy as a -child's kiss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla slept late and rather heavily after a restless night, -and she was horrified when she awakened with a start -to find that it was nine o'clock. She sprang up, threw -her window open to the sun, and leaned over it for a -moment to inhale the delicious breath of the morning. -She had taken one of the attic rooms for her own, -Margaret Maclaren occupying the other one, while -Diarmid had made shift with a bed in his pantry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The attics had storm-windows on the roof, from which -you could see across the angle of the Moor and get a -glimpse of Glenogle. Also from that high coign of -vantage there was a fascinating view of Ben Voirlich, on -whose peak still rested the cap of morning mist. But -all the little hills huddled around and below were clear, -and the day gave promise of being fine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret, who had been up twice to the door, now -appeared with her hot water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So glad you had a good rest, Miss Isla. I thought -you looked terrible tired last night. The General is still -sleeping. Diarmid says he has hardly moved all night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am glad of that--and Mr. Malcolm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been out since the back of six and had his porridge -with Diarmid and me," answered Margaret proudly. -"Now he is asking for his breakfast and inquiring when -you are coming down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Serve the breakfast. I'll be as quick as I can," -said Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She plunged into her dressing with a will. When she -got down to the dining-room she found Malcolm in a -tweed knicker-bocker suit, discussing the Loch trout -that had been sent up from the hotel with Miss -Macdougall's compliments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm surprised at you, Isla. I thought you would -have been down at six anyway, giving us all points," he -said gaily. "I've been up for two hours and a half and -had a tramp across the Moor. It was glorious. Seen -father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he's just waking up after a good night"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He doesn't come down to breakfast?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Diarmid is taking it to him now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She passed round to her place at the tray, and Malcolm -admired her trim figure with its slender, well-belted -waist, the poise of her head, the glint of her hair, and -the clear red-and-white of her complexion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look better here than you did in London, Isla. -London doesn't suit you, and that old black frock you -had on at Aunt Jean's in the evening was an unbecoming -rag, if you'll excuse me for saying it. You could wear -vivid colours. I'd like to see you in emerald -green--shimmery soft stuff, don't you know?--with trailing -draperies round you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla laughed outright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid the chances of that are small. The old -black rag has been my only evening frock since you -went away, and I believe I've had it on only about half -a dozen times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor old girl, what a shame that it can't get pretty -clothes! Now, if I were you I'd have them. By Jove, -I would, and let pay who will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know," she answered quietly. "But I've got -into the habit of paying for my clothes before I wear -them. Well, what are you going to do to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the first thing undoubtedly is to rig up a horse -and trap of some kind. I'll go down to Lochearn -presently--on my feet, that haven't done much walking of -late, you bet, and see whether Miss Macdougall can fix -me up. It's quite obvious that Creagh isn't livable in -unless one is provided with some means of escape from -it. What about the post? Do the old primitive -arrangements still hold good?--half the day gone before the -bag comes in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's half-past twelve before the postman gets here. -I generally walk as far as Little Shuan to meet him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll get farther than that this morning--probably all -the way," he said. "What are you to be about? I -suppose you have things to see to in the house after -having been away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Isla. "I want you to be careful about -the letters while you are here, Malcolm. There are only -some my father cares to see, and even these do not -always interest him. But he has gleams of comprehension -and of most disconcerting clearness of vision. -Dr. Blair says it is most imperative that he should not -have a shock of any kind, however small, and in the -last year I have been keeping almost everything back -from him. He grasps one bit of a thing, you see, and -confuses the rest, and so might very easily work himself -up into a state about nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand," said Malcolm. "So, between us, we -have to keep him in the dark. That's what it amounts -to, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla nodded. "I hate to see it, but it does amount to -that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll make a note of it. But, now that I'm home, the -chief cause of anxiety may perhaps be removed," he -said airily. "Well, I'll go, and don't keep my luncheon -for me. If I want anything I'll drop in at the hotel. -It's possible that I may call at Achree as I come up. -Of course it is necessary that I meet this American chap -and have a talk with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose so, but you can't do anything, Malcolm, -even if you see things you don't like at Achree. He has -paid the half of his money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where is it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the Bank at Callander, in my name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm whistled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rather high-handed, isn't it, Isla?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There wasn't anything else to be done. Father can -sign cheques, of course, but I banked Mr. Rosmead's -money in my name on Mr. Cattanach's advice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely now you'll let me take over the business -part of the show, Isla?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pushed back his chair and took out his cigarette -case as he put the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla looked uncomfortable, and her face even paled a -little. She hated the position in which she was placed, -but past experience had shown her the folly of trusting -Malcolm in money matters. He had certainly not the -money-sense nor yet the sense of honour where money -was concerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think I can do that, Malcolm. Remember, -it is all the money that we have to live on until the -rents become due again at Martinmas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't any of them pay now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One or two--Roderick Duncan and the farmer at -Little Shuan. But these are crofts, their rent amounting -to only a few pounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having lit his cigarette, Malcolm proceeded to turn -out his pockets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A few coppers, some Indian coins, and two -half-sovereigns!" he said ruefully. "I'm stonybroke, Isla. -Have I to come to you for the few pence that I shall -need in the Glen? By Gad I can't do that! I must -speak to the governor about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's face reddened where it had been pale before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a horrible situation," she said almost passionately. -"But don't you see I can't help it? It isn't my doing. -Since you left we have lived on next to nothing at -Achree. We haven't bought any butcher's meat hardly, but -have had rabbits and fowls and game of our own killing -and the everlasting trout. I never get any new clothes, -as you have already observed and remarked upon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But now that the American has paid you should be -a little rougher."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to save that money to pay off the mortgage -and the--the other money you owe," she said quite -quietly, and he had no idea what fires blazed beneath -that calm exterior. "You'll have to find something to -do, Malcolm, and that soon. You must see that for -yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see that I'm to have a jolly rotten time here," he -said gloomily. "I must write to Cattanach and tell him -to look out an agent's place of some kind for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you don't know anything about land or estate -management, Malcolm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know as much as some of the fellows of my -acquaintance who fill fat billets. Meanwhile, I simply -must have a fiver, Isla. I shan't spend it, but a fellow -can't go about with empty pockets."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rose and, unlocking the old bureau, counted out -five sovereigns from the little cash-box in the secret -drawer. He took them without shame and even with a -twinkle in his eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pay Saturday! Well, good-bye, old girl. I'll go out -on the hunt and see whether I have any luck. I don't -mind telling you I'm rather building on this American -chap. If he's a millionaire I must try and coax him to -disburse a little in this direction. I'll ask him quite -frankly whether he doesn't want a handyman about the -place. I could take on that job and fill it to a T."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla did not demur, but her pride rose again in revolt -at the thought of what Malcolm might do. She thought -she did not wish to see anything more of the Americans. -She would keep strictly to the letter of their bargain and -leave them at Achree in peace. But if her observation -was to any purpose she told herself that Malcolm would -not make very much of Peter Rosmead, who was far too -hard-headed a man to be taken in by his specious ways.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had a good many uncomfortable moments during -the day, however, while contemplating possible -interviews between Malcolm and Rosmead, all of which fell -short of the actual happening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm went up to spend half an hour by his father's -bedside, making himself so charming that the old man -was full of it when Isla came to see how he was getting on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he left the house and set off with a long swinging -step to cover the distance between Creagh and Lochearn. -He did not keep to the road. There was not a hill-path -or a sheep-track in the district with which he had not -been familiar since his boyhood. He came out just -below Achree, deciding that he would go on to meet the -post first and take it as he returned. About a quarter of -a mile from the Lodge he met Donald Maclure driving -some black-faced ewes in front of him, and he stopped -to pass the time of day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donald was a large, slow man, with a stolid face and -a shock of red hair sticking out from under his broad -bonnet, and he presented a sharp contrast to his trig and -sonsy wife. Indeed, many had wondered how Elspeth -had ever come to marry him and, above all, who had -done the courting, Donald being the most silent man in -the whole of the glens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hallo, Donald, how is the world using you?" cried -Malcolm cheerily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No sae pad, Maister Malcolm," Donald was forced to -answer. "I heard ye gae by last nicht--at least Elspeth -did. She wass oot wavin' her hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must go in and give her a kiss for that--eh, -Donald? Where are you taking that nice-looking -herd to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The other side of the little hill," answered Donald -briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coining money off the sheep--eh, Donald? It's you -farmers who haul in the shekels in these days. What -with taxes and reduced rents and what not, there's little -left for the poor landlord. You needn't shake your head, -my man. We'll thrash it out another day, however. -But you can't get away from the fact that we can't afford -to live in our own house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Donald pulled his forelock and passed on with a -mysterious Gaelic direction to the sheep-dog, which was -attended with magical results. He was neither convinced -nor deceived by Malcolm's small hints. He knew -him of yore; also Elspeth, having the most perfect faith -in her big, silent husband, had not failed to confide -to him the true story of the Americans' coming to -Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few steps further on Malcolm saw in the distance -two ladies, walking together, with shepherds' crooks in -their bare hands and with no hats upon their heads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their bearing and carriage at once riveted his keen -interest. Wherever there was a petticoat Malcolm -Mackinnon was interested, and these ladies were -evidently strangers to the Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One was very tall and slender, the other short in -stature but neatly built, and both wore most workman-like -country attire with a grace that he had never seen -excelled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he came nearer the face of the taller of the two -attracted him still more. It was exquisitely beautiful, -being chiselled on pure classical lines, and the skin was -soft and clear, the colour so pale and delicate, without -giving the smallest suggestion of ill-health, that he had -never seen anything like it. The abundant dark hair, -slightly waved in front and worn simply parted over her -ears, gave a look of Madonna-like simplicity to the face, -which, to Malcolm's eyes, seemed most alluring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other was more ordinary, though her face had a -certain piquant charm. He wondered who they were -and whether he dared make any remark as they passed, -but they solved the difficulty by bidding him a pleasant -good morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly his cap was in his hand, and he would have -stopped, but they immediately passed on, evidently -slightly surprised at his intention to detain them. He -waited only until they were over the brow of the next -little hill, and then he deliberately entered Donald -Maclure's pasture and crept back after them in shadow -of the few scanty trees and shrubs that lined the -road--and all just to watch where they would go!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the next hillock he could see the gate of Achree -in the hollow, and, having waited sufficiently long, -smoking another cigarette the while, he had the -satisfaction of seeing them turn in at the Lodge. Then did -an immense content steal over Malcolm Mackinnon. -With two such charming inmates at Achree, life which -had promised to be like a desert, suddenly began to -blossom like the rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hastened on without stopping at the farm-house to -pass the time of day with Elspeth Maclure, and -presently his attention was diverted by the sight of the -new railway track which had gradually crept up the -side of the Loch, and which was about to culminate in -a big viaduct over the burn at the lower end of Glenogle. -He had not a very keen sense of beauty, but, somehow, -he did not like the ugly scars on the hill-sides and all -the unsightly paraphernalia of the work, though he -knew very well what a boon it would be to them when -all was finished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was still contemplating it when the post-gig drove -up, and then there was another stop and an exchange -of greetings with David, while the letters were handed -over. He glanced at them with a sort of careless keenness, -and, deciding that there was nothing affecting him, -he handed them back and told David to deliver them -at Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finally he landed in the Hotel, where he spent a good -hour at the bar, hearing all the gossip of the Glen and, -incidentally, a good deal that he wished to know about -the new folk at Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I met them, Miss Macdougall. Have they -passed by this morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. They have been in here, sir--the two young -ladies, but they do say that the big tall one is a married -woman that has divorced her husband. I don't know -the story rightly, but that's what they say. She is very -quiet and seems sad-like. The other speaks most of -the time and is very lively. The old lady I have never -seen, but they do say that they are a most superior kind -of folk and not like some of them we get in the Glen in -the shooting season."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you happen to know whether Mr. Rosmead -himself is in the Glen to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he iss not, sir, for the motor went by with him -for the nine o'clock train and syne came back empty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm not supposed to know, so I think I'll call -at the place as I go up. I have a good enough excuse -anyhow, as I have been away so long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And thus it came about that this bit of information did -not deter Malcolm from doing that which he had in his -mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About half-past twelve he passed through the familiar -gateway to Achree and made his way to the house. His -pulses scarcely stirred as he did so. The place of his -fathers made no appeal to him. It was merely stone and -lime, and if it had been in his power he would have sold -it for hard cash to any purchaser. In fact, the thought -uppermost in his mind as he approached the door was -that, having once caught the millionaire, he might find it -worth while to keep him. He determined to make -himself, somehow, master of the law of entail in order to -discover whether there was any loophole of escape from -the disability to sell it. Not in his father's lifetime, of -course. But when Isla and he should be left, of what use -would this great, rambling, uncomfortable old house and -its attendant acres of hungry moor and hill be? Far -better convert it into the money with which they could -enjoy life, making choice in the whole wide world of a -place of abode.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A woman-servant opened the door to him, and in -answer to his inquiry, informed him that Mr. Rosmead -was not at home. Malcolm's sharp eyes noted in the -hall beyond the flutter of a petticoat, and as he turned to -go he purposely raised his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry that I've not a card on me. Will you be -so kind as to tell him that Mr. Malcolm Mackinnon -from Creagh called to see him and that he will call -another day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir," said the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at that moment the figure within came towards the -door. It was Sadie, who, having heard the name, -advanced with an insatiable curiosity. She extended a -very frank hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you are Mr. Mackinnon that was expected home -from India," she said, showing her dazzling teeth in her -smile. "Won't you come in and have a bit of lunch with -my sister and me? We shall be alone, as my mother -does not yet come down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Miss Rosmead. But that would be -presuming on a very slight acquaintance--in fact, none at -all, wouldn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but we know your sister and that perfectly dear -old father of yours, and, anyway, this is your house and -you must want to have a look at the old place after having -been away so long. I've no doubt you are hating us for -being here. Come in. Oh, Vivien, do come here! It -was Mr. Mackinnon whom we met on the road, and I -am asking him to lunch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm passed into the house, hat in hand, and was -duly introduced to Mrs. Rodney Payne. Seen at closer -quarters, she was even more beautiful than he had -thought. The still repose of her manner contrasted -strongly with her sister's vivacity and seemed from the -first to cast a sort of spell over Mackinnon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall be happy if you will stay to luncheon, -Mr. Mackinnon," she said, obeying the instructions from -Sadie's eyes. "My brother will be very sorry to have -missed you. He has gone to the Forth Bridge to-day to -meet the contractors there and have a talk with them. -It seems it is the annual inspection--or something. -Anyway, Peter had an invitation to go. He won't get back -till quite late, perhaps not even until to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm Mackinnon did not care. He was in no hurry -to meet Mr. Hylton P. Rosmead so long as there was such -a charming substitute to take his place. He wouldn't -have hesitated about making this glib compliment to -another woman, but there was something about Vivien -Rosmead which repelled any attempt at even the slightest -familiarity. She held herself aloof, and her mouth, made -for sweetness, seemed as if it were chiselled in marble. -Malcolm wondered what the experience had been that -had given her that petrified expression, and he longed to -be the man to melt her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sadie, as usual, did the talking and proved herself an -admirable hostess. But while he answered her gay -badinage it was Vivien who had his whole admiration. -He noticed how little she ate and that her eyes had in -them a far-away look which seemed to detach her from -the common things of life. Yet she was not dull. A -word now and then indicated that she was not by any -means dead to the possibilities of life or to the interests -of everyday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We like your sister so much, Mr. Mackinnon," she -said with a sudden warm flash of interest when Sadie -left a moment's breathing space. "We hope that she is -going to allow us to be friendly with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, of course. Why not? She will be only too -pleased, I'm sure," murmured Malcolm eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She was so kind about letting us come here in a -hurry that we can never forget it. And it is so lovely to -see her with your father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she spoke of the old General, Vivien's eyes grew -large and pitiful, more and more like those of the -Madonna.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's even more lovely to find how adored she is in -the Glen, in all the glens," said Sadie the irrepressible. -"Everywhere you hear nothing but her praises. Don't -you find it a little hard, Mr. Mackinnon," she added -with just a little malicious flash, "to live up to such -a sister?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sadie, Sadie, do be careful!" said Vivien softly. -"That is not quite kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's true, Vivien, and I see from Mr. Mackinnon's -face that he admits it. You and I must be pals, -Mr. Mackinnon, for I'm just like that with my sister. She's -so frightfully good that she ought to have a halo, and -she makes all common folks who approach her feel -worship in the air."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure of that," said Malcolm with a queer little -bow in the direction of Vivien who, though she laughed, -was a little vexed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Mackinnon will think us very frivolous, Sadie. -Suppose we change the subject and ask him to tell us -something about India. Your British rule in India is -so splendid! It stands, just like a great rock, immune -from the assaults of criticism. I'm sure all this talk -about sedition and unrest means nothing. Perhaps you -can tell us about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very little did Malcolm Mackinnon know about British -rule in India--as little indeed as any Tommy in the -ranks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you see," he said with rather an awkward -laugh. "I was only a bit of the system--don't you -know?--a small--very small spoke in the big wheel. -My part was to make forced marches in the night and -keep an open eye after stray bullets, and to be all ready -when occasion rose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sadie's eyes positively glowed with excited interest. -She loved the Army, investing it with colour and -romance, and in Malcolm Mackinnon she pictured to -herself a heroic figure--a replica of the fine old father, -of whose valour the Glen had many tales to tell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Vivien, the more discriminating of the two, had -already decided in her own clear and quiet mind that -the son of Achree occupied a lower moral plane than the -daughter. Her instinct was very swift and fine, and -the feeling of distrust born of that first meeting was -never afterwards wholly dispelled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sadie, with her elbows on the table, wagged her -unconventional tongue and asked so many questions about -their guest's life in India that he gave her a very highly -coloured version of the same, playing up to her for all -he was worth and deepening her impression of the -soldiery who had upheld Britain's prestige all over the -world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the midst of this fascinating talk which proceeded -almost entirely between Malcolm and Sadie, Vivien -merely listening with an odd air of cool detachment -which was almost critical, a servant entered the room -with a message which she delivered to Sadie. Since -Vivien's return to her mother's house she had taken a -secondary place, and, though she resumed her own -name, it was Sadie to whom were accorded the privileges -of the elder daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, Miss Sadie, Mrs. Rosmead would like very -much to see Mr. Mackinnon before he goes if he will -come to her room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm would have declined if he had had any -excuse, but Sadie jumped up immediately, saying that -she would show him the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien did not accompany them, and when, after a -brief interview with the beautiful, white-haired old lady -who had Vivien's eyes, Sadie and he returned to the -hall-place, she was nowhere to be seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Must you go, Mr. Mackinnon? I don't know where -Vivien is. She's like that, poor dear. Her troubles -have quite taken the life out of her. You'll come again, -won't you? In the name of the whole Rosmead folks I -make you free of your own house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was so frankly kind and her eyes so beamed on -him that Malcolm would not have been Malcolm had he -not made quick response.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent low over her white, outstretched hand and -murmured certain words which somewhat heightened -Sadie's colour and brought an odd softness to her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like that man, Vivien. He's perfectly lovely, I -think, and all the things they say about him in the -Glen are lies. Don't you think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Vivien, whom sad experience had made wise, -answered not at all.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-messenger"><span class="large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE MESSENGER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As Malcolm strode up the Glenogle road a little later, -well pleased with his day's achievement, he was -overtaken by a smart drag and a pair of swift roan horses -handled by Drummond of Garrion, whose sister Kitty -was by his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil drew up of course, and there was an odd look on -his face as the greeting passed. Malcolm's manner was -perfectly cool, even a little defiant. It would certainly -have been better had Isla held her tongue, but he was -not going to eat humble pie before that big, sheep-faced -boy who had nothing but his money to recommend him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took off his cap to Kitty, however, who smiled -sweetly upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're going to Creagh--no, not to call on you, -Malcolm, so don't think it. We only wanted to know -whether Isla had come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We returned last night," he answered. "Well I'll -see you later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense. You'll get up, Mackinnon," said Drummond -so shortly that Kitty turned reproachful eyes on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were heaps of stories about Malcolm in the -glens, but after all, nothing had been proved against -him. And, anyhow, it was not the province of friendship -to turn a cold shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd walk, Malcolm, if I were you. Wait a moment, -and I'll get down to convoy you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No you don't, my lass," said Drummond firmly. -"Get up, Mackinnon. The brutes won't stand--you see -how fresh they are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm did not hesitate longer. It was three good -miles to Creagh yet, and a man doesn't walk so easily -after a good meal as before it. He swung himself to the -back seat and settled himself so that he could talk to -both, but chiefly into the ear of Kitty, whose looks, he -decided, had improved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neil's manners, as I dare say you have observed, -have not improved of late," said Kitty airily. "He has -been such a bear to-day that I am forced to the -conclusion that he must have something on his conscience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it comes to that we've all got something on our -consciences--more or less," he answered gaily. "Don't -let it put you down on your luck too much, old chap. -It's good policy to wait till the clouds roll by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to what Neil thought of him Malcolm did not care -a fig, but he wished to stand well with Kitty, having -proved that women were generally a man's best friends -and would champion him, often against their better -judgment. It was a favourite jest with him that he -would prefer a court martial of women to anything in -this world, and that he would never despair of getting off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond had told his sister only a judicious amount -about Achree affairs, and it is to his credit that he had -kept the fact of Malcolm's dismissal from the Army -entirely to himself even when sometimes tempted to tell -what he knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was for Isla's sake that he had kept silence--Isla, -whom he loved with a dog-like fidelity that was capable -of any sacrifice and any suffering in order to make her -happy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm was unaware of Drummond's sentiments towards -his sister, and if he had known them they would -only have amused him. He despised Neil as a man of -the world might despise and belittle a boy who had seen -nothing of life. Neil, on his part, had the heartiest -contempt for Malcolm Mackinnon, and cherished such an -honest rage against him that it would have relieved him -to have given him a good thrashing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You won't like Creagh, Malcolm," said Kitty -sympathetically. "I can't help thinking that Isla was in -too big a hurry to rush the Americans in. They were so -frightfully keen on Achree that they would have waited -your time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I think, but I don't grumble," said -Malcolm. "I've been to lunch with them to-day, and -they're quite decent--upon my word they are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been to lunch already, have you, Malcolm? You -don't let the grass grow under your feet. And what do -you think of them? I really think we must call, Neil. -Why not this afternoon when we go down?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," answered Neil shortly, "I'm not needing any -truck with such folks. If they must swarm into Scotland, -then, let them, but they'll get no encouragement from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Touch me if ye daur," whispered Malcolm with his -eyes full of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kitty laughed out loud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the way down she took the opportunity of asking -Neil what had made him so disagreeable to Malcolm all -the afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure he's very nice and has greatly improved. -His manner to his father is beautiful, I think--such a -nice mixture of deference and devotion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fiddlesticks, Kitty!" said Drummond in his grumpiest -tones. "You don't know what you're talking about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you?" she asked saucily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It takes a man to know a man like Malcolm Mackinnon. -I wonder how he can bear to loaf about idle--great -big hulking fellow that he is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Loaf about? But he's on leave, Neil, and he has -had a hard year of skirmishing. You should hear him -tell about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't want to--shouldn't believe it if I did," said -Neil, biting his lip and conscious that he had very -nearly let the cat out of the bag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not had an opportunity of private speech with -Isla at Creagh, because he and his sister had found the -Edens in the little drawing-room and had left them still -there when they went away. The whole afternoon had -been a disappointment, and when, as they neared the -gate of Achree, Kitty had again ventured to suggest that -they should pay a call he refused point-blank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed as likely as not that Malcolm was to -become a bone of contention in the Glen and that very -soon there would be two factions--one that believed in -him and another that discredited him in everything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm himself was the least concerned of them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The weather continuing beautiful and spring-like, he -went out early and stayed out late, and they saw very -little indeed of him at Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla now heard less of the news of the Glen, for it was -a long walk down to Lochearn and her father seemed -more than ever reluctant to let her out of his sight. -These were rather trying days for Isla, because her -father talked almost incessantly about Malcolm, praising -him to the skies and predicting a glorious future for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the days went by and no letter or communication -of any kind came from India or from the War Office, -and as no intimation regarding Malcolm's withdrawal -from the Army had been seen in any of the newspapers, -Isla began to cherish the hope that they had heard the -last of it. Of course Malcolm might have intercepted -any that had been sent, but if he had done so he did -not tell her. They saw little of each other and there -was not much brotherly or sisterly confidence between -them. They were indeed working at cross-purposes and, -without knowing it, each was jealous of the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nobody would have been more surprised and indignant -than Isla had anyone told her that she was jealous -of Malcolm's frequent visits to Achree: yet that was -the truth. Also, she was keenly disappointed that -Rosmead, after all his considerate kindness at the beginning, -had never made the smallest effort to see her again. -She would not go to Achree unless she was specially -invited. So she remained at Creagh, living out the dull -and narrow days, her heart full of vague discontent and -unrest and forebodings which she could not have put -into words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Four weeks passed away--certainly the longest four -weeks of Isla's life. She did not like Creagh though -nothing on earth would have induced her to admit it. -She missed all the cheery, pleasant gossip of the Glen -and the little village, the daily intercourse with her own -folk, the give and take of a social life which, if limited, -was at least very sincere. Achree and Creagh were -evidently two different places in the estimation of her -circle, for nobody but the Edens and the Drummonds -took the trouble to look her up, and even they did not -come often. All the fun and all the social life apparently -fell to Malcolm's share.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was thinking of all this one morning as she -sauntered down to the gate to meet the post-gig. She -was a little late, she found by the watch-bracelet on her -arm, and wondered as she glanced down the long white -line of the road, on which there was not a single moving -object visible, whether she had missed David Bain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had been over at the keeper's house about half a -mile distant, inquiring after a woman who had had a -new baby and, meeting the doctor from Comrie there, -had stopped a little to talk with him. She had assured -him that he need not call at Creagh, unless indeed he -particularly wanted to see her father--as he had not -been so well for years as he had been since they came -up to live on the Moor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently she saw something in the distance--a man -on horseback, rather a rare spectacle on the moorland -road at that season of the year. She thought at first -that it must be Neil Drummond, who was the only -horseman that ever came to Creagh. But a nearer -glance assured her that the figure was a heavier one than -Neil's, and, besides, she did not recognize the horse, -though she could see that it was a good one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She waited a few minutes longer, and as the horseman -drew rapidly nearer she recognized the figure as that of -Rosmead. This surprised her very much. Somehow, -she had never imagined that an American man, though -even a distinguished builder of bridges, would ride a -horse and look so well on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having no doubt that he was coming to Creagh, she -opened the gate and stood by the white post until he -came up. She admired the ease with which he sat, -proving thereby that he was no novice on a horse's -back. He looked uncommonly well-pleased to see her, -and before he reached the gate he saluted her and threw -himself to the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Catching the reins over his arm, he took off his hat -and kept it under his arm until she had given him her -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a case of Mahomet coming to the mountain, -Miss Mackinnon. I am here to-day on my mother's -behalf and with a message from her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" said Isla, and her smile was bright and very -sweet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had felt left out in the cold, and that feeling of -neglect accounted for the little glow at her heart which -had been kindled by the sincere cordiality of Rosmead's -greeting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know that she feels quite aggrieved," said -he, "to think that she has been a month in Achree and -that you have never called once to inquire or to make -her acquaintance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very sorry. I did not think--" replied Isla a -little confusedly. "And since, as I understand, my -brother has paid many calls at Achree I did not think -it necessary that I should call. Besides, I am very -much tied here on account of my father's health----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand that," he said gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is a long way to Achree," she continued, -"and we have no horse or trap of any kind. But I will -come one day very soon and make my apologies. I -hope that you are pretty comfortable in the house, and -that your mother likes it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She loves it. She has settled down, and from present -signs I don't see that we shall ever get her out of it -again," he answered with a laugh, watching at the game -time the mobile face beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thought it the sweetest face that he had ever seen -and--almost he could have said--the dearest. Yet -Hylton Rosmead had seen many fair women, among -whom he might without doubt have made his choice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad," said Isla a little wistfully. "And -your sisters--do they, too, like it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They do. Glenogle and Lochearn in such a spring -as this leave little, I think, to be desired in the way of -winsomeness. I myself feel as if I belonged here, which, -I dare say, you consider great presumption on my part."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed no," said Isla, with a swift, kind glance. "I feel -very glad to know that that is how you regard Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came with a message from my mother and also, -I must confess, on my own account to tell you that I -have to leave Scotland for a few months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Isla, and her face unaccountably fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Rosmead was not yet sufficiently acquainted with -the play of its expression to understand that his news -had disappointed her. Neither was he vain enough to -imagine that her expression had altered because of his -announcement of his impending departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you going?" she asked a moment later.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back to America. The object for which I came to -this country is accomplished, and I really have no excuse -for remaining longer here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Isla again, a little dully. "Somehow I -imagined that you were going to settle in Scotland, -though of course that was a very absurd supposition on -my part."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so very absurd. It is what I should like to -do--what I hope to do one day. But, in the meantime, I -must not forget that I am a partner in an American -business and that I am expected to go back with my -report."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What report?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have forgotten, of course, that I told you I was -a bridge-builder. Why should you remember it?" he -asked lightly. "I came over to meet the engineers and -the contractors who have to do with your splendid -bridges here, and in the fall I shall have to go down -south, where my firm has undertaken to build one of -the biggest cantilever bridges in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Isla a third time. "And you will not -come back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope that I shall return later in the year--probably -to spend Christmas with my mother and sisters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will remain here, then? You wish to extend -the term of your tenancy of Achree? Do you -remember it was to be for six months?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With the option of remaining for a year. That was -made very clear, I think, at the beginning, and, as I -said, my mother will not be easily ousted from Achree. -She is of Scottish parentage, you know. Her mother -was a Farquharson, so she imagines that she has a -special claim on Scotland. Happily your brother does -not mind the extension."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sort of chill fell on Isla at mention of Malcolm's -name, though why she could not have told. She had -no fear that he had not made himself pleasant or -agreeable at Achree; but, somehow, disaster seemed to -associate itself with his name. She feared to pursue the -subject. But Rosmead, quite unaware of her feeling -in the matter, none of the gossip of the Glen having -reached his ears, went on quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've had several long talks about it, and practically -it is arranged that we take the place on a two years' -lease."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have arranged that with Malcolm!" she said a -little faintly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Rosmead. "He has been most kind -about it. He tells me he has resigned his commission -on account of his father's health but that he intends and -hopes to get some estate management. I appreciate -his kindness to us all the more on that account."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, who heard all this for the first time, felt a -natural thrill of indignation because she had been kept -in the dark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see that there is so very much kindness," -she said quickly. "You pay very handsomely for the -house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is worth it," he said heartily. "The old Rosmead -place in Virginia my mother has lent to her youngest -sister, lately made a widow. She is looking after all -the servants, and we have not the smallest anxiety -about it, so you see, things have arranged themselves -very nicely for us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your home is in Virginia, then?" said Isla in tones -of deep interest, which flattered Rosmead not a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. My grandfather was a big planter there, and -had many slaves. Of course the war changed all that, -but the place remains the same. I should like you to -see Virginia, Miss Mackinnon, and my old home. It is -a beautiful place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems odd that you should be so willing to leave it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It had sad associations for my mother and also for -my sister Vivien, who was married in the neighbourhood -and was--and was--not very happy. But there--I have -all this time been talking about myself, and not at all -about you. Your father, I hear, is very well. I dare say, -your brother's return has helped him greatly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I think it has," said Isla, trying to be cordial -as well as loyal. "And Creagh suits him. It is very -high and clear up there, and he is able to potter about -just as he likes. You will come in and see him? Even -his mind is much stronger. Certainly he now grasps -the fact of your residence at Achree, and, I am sure, -he would like to make your acquaintance properly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to come in and see him, if I may," said -Rosmead. "But before we go in will you promise to go -sometimes to see my mother when I am gone? I don't -know why I should ask this, but I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be sure to go, Mr. Rosmead. But when do you -leave Scotland?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Next Thursday. My boat sails from Liverpool on -Saturday afternoon, and I have some business in London -on the Friday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall come before then, of course, and I am very -sorry I have been so rude and unneighbourly," said Isla, -and she meant what she said. "Do you mind walking -round with me to the stable and putting your horse in? -The accommodation is quite good, but there is no groom," -she added with a small, pitiful smile which touched him -inexpressibly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her whole personality appealed to him. The grave, -unimpressionable Hylton P. Rosmead, accounted by his -colleagues one of the hardest-headed men of his time, -was so moved by this woman, whom he had seen so few -times, that he could have taken her in his arms there and -then, and asked nothing better than to keep her for the -rest of his life and hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was so sweetly natural and womanly, so altogether -devoid of pretension that she appealed to every fibre in -his being. He hated the artificiality of the women of his -set--the smart women whom he had met in New York -society and who were ready to make much of the "Bridge-builder," -as they called him--and to pour the incense of -their flattery upon him. But the atmosphere had always -impressed him as being insincere, and he had often told -his mother that if he ever married it would be in some -very unexpected place. He knew now that he had found -the place and the woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All unconscious of what was passing in his mind, Isla -led the way to the stables, stood by while he tied up his -horse, and then walked back with him, pointing out the -beauty of the situation and the incomparable view from -the little plateau on which the house was built.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I wonder whether David Bain has ever come. -I suppose you saw nothing of him on the road, Mr. Rosmead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing. He was ahead of me, I am sure, because -he is the most punctual person I have ever heard tell of. -I have heard that in Glenogle they set their clocks by -David."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla passed into the house with a smile on her lips and, -crossing the narrow hall, opened the door of the dining-room -which her father used as a library and sitting-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there she stood just a moment as if frozen upon -the threshold. Her father was not in his accustomed -chair, but lay on the hearthrug, where he had evidently -fallen with the page of an open letter grasped tightly in -his hand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-house-of-woe"><span class="large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE HOUSE OF WOE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Isla sprang forward and knelt down in a silence that -could be felt. The old man lay slightly on his side, and -Rosmead, as he too knelt down, saw at once that all was -over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's white face and terrified eyes turned to him in -swift appeal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you take your horse and ride quickly for Dr. Blair? -I left him at the keeper's house at Rofallion. -Any of them here will tell you where it is. And even if -he is gone from there the people will know what direction -he took."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead rose to his feet, and on his face was a great -and sad gentleness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will go if you wish, my dear, but it is useless. He -is dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sprang up, and her eyes flashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead! How dare you say that? He can't be dead--it -is impossible. He was quite well this morning--better -than he has been for years. I told Dr. Blair -so when he wished to come and see him this very -morning. Oh, if only I had let him come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hand on the shabby old bell-pull sent a hundred -echoes through the house and brought Diarmid, shaking -and apprehensive, to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla turned to him sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Diarmid. The General has had a fit--or -something. Help to lift him up, and carry him to his -room. Will you, Mr. Rosmead? Oh, thank you very -much. Then if you will ride for the doctor it will be -the greatest service you can render."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they would have addressed themselves to their -task she stooped and tried to release the sheet of paper -from the fingers that held it like a vice. But the effort -was useless. As she knelt there she was able to read -the address on the one side, and, on the other, which -she turned with a shaking finger, the signature of -Colonel Martindale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she knew what had happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left the room and flew up the stairs to see that -the bed was ready, and, as she heard Margaret Maclaren -clucking to her handful of poultry at the kitchen door, -she wondered how all the work and business of their -little world could go on as before, while her life was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bed was straight and the fair linen sheet turned -back when Rosmead and the serving-man appeared with -their burden. Even then Isla noted the extreme -gentleness and power displayed by Rosmead, and from -that moment he seemed, as it were, to take over her -case and to legislate for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They laid the poor old General on his bed, and -Rosmead very gently drew the lids over the staring eyes -that seemed to have a great horror in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, go for the doctor--go quickly, for God's sake!" -cried Isla--"or it will be too late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is too late now," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, stepping to the toilet-table, he lifted the General's -small shaving-glass that had been carried through many -a campaign and laid it against his lips. There was not -the faintest sign of a misty breath on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the infallible sign, my dear. God help and -comfort you! I will send your woman to you and then -go after the doctor. It will be well that he should be -here even if he can do nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, now almost convinced that her father was indeed -dead, did not cry. But Rosmead never forgot the despair -of her face. She bent over the prostrate figure and -once more essayed to remove the letter from the gripping -fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead stepped forward to help her and, after a -small effort, he succeeded in releasing it. She smoothed -it out, folded it, and put it inside the bosom of her gown. -Her face seemed to harden then till it became set like -marble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will never forgive Malcolm Mackinnon this!" she -said under her breath, "never while I live."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead, guessing some tragedy beneath, decently -turned away and went down to get his horse from the -stable. As he left the house the keeper appeared, having -been instructed by Isla to call for some soup for his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The doctor, sir? Yess, he iss at my hoose whatefer. -At least his bicycle iss there, and he iss calling at -another hoose not far away. I can bring him?--yess, -inside of ten minutes. I hope there iss nothing wrong -at Creagh whatefer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"General Mackinnon has had a seizure of some kind," -answered Rosmead. "Can you go as quickly on your -feet as I on my horse?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quicker. Forby, there iss no need," answered the -man, and he was off like lightning across the moor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in less than ten minutes' time he was back to say -that the doctor had gone and that nobody knew the way -he had taken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Rosmead ascended the stairs once more, to find -that they were standing about helplessly, wringing their -hands, while Isla, with the desolation of death on her -face, was looking out of the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He motioned the servants from the room, and went -up to her, gently touching her arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear," he said, and she did not even notice how -he once more addressed her. "I am afraid we have -missed the doctor. I will get him for you soon, but -meanwhile I want you to grasp the fact that, even if he -were here at this moment, there is nothing to be done. -I have some knowledge of such things, and I have seen -many die. It is all over, and, save for the pain to you, -we ought to be glad that he suffers no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suffer!" she cried shrilly. "You don't know--no -one will ever know what he suffered just then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unconsciously her hand touched the fold of her blouse -where the letter lay. "He had a shock--yes, and it was -the one thing to avoid. Oh, I have watched him all -these years so that nothing came near him! But I was -powerless against this evil thing that killed him at the -last!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead made no answer, understanding that she -was distraught and spoke freely of that which her -normal self would not have so much as mentioned in -his presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His one concern was to get her out of the room, so -that the last sad offices might be done and Mackinnon -of Achree composed in the dignity of his last sleep. -He managed it at last, for even with all his gentleness -he was masterful. Then with his own hands he helped, -guiding the tearful, but anxious and willing servants so -that in a short time the death-chamber was prepared, -the fair linen ready, and all done decently as it ought -to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he got down to the library Isla was sitting by -the table, with her elbows on it, staring into space. The -expression on her face hurt him. It was not woebegone, -nor yet was it grief-stricken. It was only hard like the -nether millstone. He understood that he had come -within touch of the tragedy of these broken lives, but -not an atom of curiosity stirred in him. His only -concern was for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked round with a little shivering breath, and -her lips essayed to move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I too seem to be stricken! I wish only one thing at -this moment, Mr. Rosmead--that I could be lying dead -beside my father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I understand. I was only fifteen when my -father died--through a gun accident that might have -been averted, and I remember the horror of it yet. But -yours was an old man and full of years and honours. -You should see him now! He reminds me of the shock -of corn fully ripe. You must think of how he was -beloved in all the glens, and how, after his long service, -he has received his crown from the King."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke quite simply, and the hardness on Isla's face -slightly relaxed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How kind you are! I shall never forget it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have done nothing that the merest stranger might -not have done better," he made answer. "What I feel -now is that I dare not leave you here alone. If you could -send some one down to Lochearn--or if you know where -your brother is I will find him for you. It is imperative -that you should not be left here alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know where he is, and he shall not come in -here!" she cried a little wildly. "You don't -understand! Nobody understands except me, but he must -not come in here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead did not know what to say, for tragedy was in -the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," he said gently, laying a slightly compelling -hand on her arm. "Let me take you upstairs. It will -do you good. He looks so beautiful and so gloriously at -rest. If only you will let your mind dwell on that, half -the bitterness will be gone--on that and on the fact of -your long and beautiful devotion to him, which has been -the wonder of all the glens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead hardly knew himself, and certainly those -who knew only one side of Peter Rosmead would have -been amazed to hear him now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla obeyed him without the smallest demur, and -when she entered the room with the drawn blinds, and -looked at the still figure on the bed with the majesty of -death on the noble face her tears began to flow. And -for that Rosmead thanked God.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was like a little child in his hands then, begging -him not to leave her; and his tenderness, his -forethought, his encompassing care were like those of a -kind elder brother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that came to an end with the sudden, swift arrival -of some fresh person at the door and with the sound of -Malcolm's loud--somewhat aggressive--voice, calling -his sister by name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead stood aside while she walked steadily from -the room, and he very heartily wished that it were -possible for him to escape by some back staircase. He -had no desire to witness what he felt must come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sped swiftly down the stairs, and on the downmost -step she paused and pointed an accusing finger at -her brother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Murderer!" she said. "Don't come a step farther. -You have no right in this house, which you have destroyed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm looked thunder-struck, and the sight of -Rosmead a few steps higher up the stair did not help to -lessen the mystery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, what has happened, and why is Mr. Rosmead -here? What is it?" he demanded peremptorily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead hastened past them and went out by the -door without a word. He knew that the time had come -for him to go--that with what now passed in the Lodge -of Creagh between the brother and sister no stranger -might intermeddle. But he left the woman whom he -had learned to love--left her with a pang.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead was no fool, and he guessed that the letter -that had been in the General's dead hand must, in some -way, have concerned his son, and that, whatever news -it contained, it was the shock of it that had killed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This also Isla knew, and Malcolm would have to -answer to his sister, to his own conscience, and to his -Maker for his sin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead's heart was heavy as he took his horse from -the queer little stable of Creagh, and, mounting, rode -slowly down Glenogle. The mystery of life, its awful -suffering--so much of it preventible--oppressed his -healthy mind like a nightmare. And always it was the -innocent and the good who had to bear the full brunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he rode through the clear beauty of the summer -morning he took a vow that he would do what he could -to make up to Isla Mackinnon--that if she would -permit him he would devote his whole life to making her -happy, to effacing the memory of the bitterness that -her young life had known.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only he must not be in too much haste, because the -quick pride of her would resent any assumption of right -on his part. Isla must be slowly and laboriously wooed. -But how well worth the winning! Rosmead's outlook -upon life had undergone a swift change, and now it was -bounded east, west, north, and south, by the deep quiet -eyes and the beautiful face of one woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The love that had come to him late would be the -great passion of his life--a passion such as few men -know. He had kept himself singularly pure and wholly -detached from women. His capacity for affection had -never been dissipated by lighter loves. He brought a -virgin heart to lay at the feet of the woman he loved. -And, in spite of the sorrow and the woe to which he -had been a witness, life promised fair to Peter Rosmead -that summer morning as he rode through Glenogle and -watched the sheen of the sun upon hill and water and -heard the birds singing their heart out in the crystal -clearness of the upper air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would go to America and attend with a single -mind to his business there, leaving the dear woman in -peace. Then, when he returned at Christmas, he would -see. His heart would tell him then whether it was time -to speak. Few misgivings were his. He believed that -Isla Mackinnon was the woman that God had given to -him and that she had been kept for him through all the -years of his strenuous young manhood, and that for her -dear sake he had been able to live without blame and -without reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For that, above all else, he gave God thanks in his -heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, in the Lodge on the edge of the Moor of -Creagh the storm rose and raged. Malcolm, a little -stupefied, kept demanding what had happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is dead!" cried Isla, in the shrill, hard tone that -had no kinship with that of her usually sweet low voice. -"And the thing that killed him was the letter from -India--Colonel Martindale's version of the story."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it to me!" said Malcolm, with an air almost of -menace as he stepped to her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I will not," she answered clearly. "It is not -yours. It was father's, and now it is mine. To think -that after all our watching, it should have fallen into his -hands at last!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm, very white and haggard now, moved with a -step that was very unsteady into the library, Isla -following, for it suddenly dawned upon her that it was -unseemly to wrangle there within a step of the chamber -of death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me what has happened," he said hoarsely. -"Surely you will not deny me the right to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There it very little to tell," said Isla drearily. "I -went out early, and before going to meet David Bain, I -went to the keeper's house at Rofallion to ask for -Mrs. Dugid. Then while I was waiting at the gate for David -Mr. Rosmead came up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And David had delivered the letters, I suppose, -while you were at Rofallion?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, of course, and father opened that one, and, though -he might have looked at a dozen others without comprehending -their meaning, he knew the meaning of that one -at once," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And her face set again like the nether millstone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had no pity for Malcolm, she did not even in that -moment of awful bitterness give him credit for one -spark of decent feeling. She hardly observed that he -was trembling like an aspen and that his face had -grown haggard about the mouth, like that of an old man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isla, I want that letter. I must have it," he said in -a low voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She heard him as she heard him not, and his tone -became more desperate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you read it, Isla?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you read it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then give it to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what does it matter? The fire is the place for it--the -very heart of it, where it will be consumed quickly, -now that it has done its deadly work," she said drearily -"Do you understand what has happened, Malcolm? Our -father is dead, and it is you who have killed him, just -as surely as if you had put a bullet into him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For God's sake, hold your tongue, Isla! You would -drive a man to the edge of despair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about me?" she cried in a kind of frenzy, -throwing her self-control to the winds. "It is all of self -you speak. Don't you understand that it is a martyrdom -and nothing else that I have suffered in the last five--no, -in the last ten years, ever since I was able to know -the meaning of the things that happened? Through you -our souls, our hearts, and sometimes our bodies have -been starved in Achree, and the old place has been -suffered to sink into the dust, and has finally passed into -the hands of strangers. All this would not have mattered -if only you had been good and brave and a little like -what you ought to have been. We could have borne -poverty with a smile. But it was your misdeeds, your -squandering of Achree that poisoned existence for him -until slowly his mind gave way. And I had to stand by -and see it and be glad of it, because in that way he -suffered less. But I suffered more. If there is a God in -heaven He must judge this day between you and me, -Malcolm Mackinnon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For God's sake Isla, hold your tongue!" he repeated, -but his voice sounded weak and almost faint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was no coward in some directions, but the look on -his sister's face was awful to see and her words seared -themselves upon his brain. He had no idea until now -of the red-hot fires of passion glowing beneath her quiet -exterior. But now he knew, and the revelation never -afterwards passed from his remembrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must speak just this once, for we are going to part, -Malcolm; now the last bond between us is snapped. -I will never forgive you. You broke my father's heart, -and mine is in the dust, where it will lie till the end. -I hope that you are very proud of your work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned away with a deep groan and covered his -face with his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you are the Laird of Achree," she continued, -"and there is none to hinder you from making its -devastation complete. As for me, I will pass away from -Glenogle and never come near it any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to her then, and his eyes looked for a -moment as hers sometimes had done, full of a most -wistful appeal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold hard, Isla! Don't you think I've had enough? -I don't want to justify myself. I admit that the letter -gave the shock, and that is punishment enough for me. -Don't rub it in. Far less has sent a man to the -lower-most hell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not seem to comprehend the words--or even -to hear them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She appeared suddenly to be possessed by a new idea, -and, undoing the pearl button of her blouse, she drew -forth the letter and held it out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take it. There is no use for me to keep it. I don't -want to read it. It is yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She opened the door, passed him by, and went, -bare-headed, into the drowsy sunshine, and a lark in the -clear blue of the sky seemed suddenly to mock her with -his wealth of full-throated song. She walked blindly, -yet her feet guided her away to the great spaces of the -Moor of Creagh, where she could be alone under the -clear canopy of heaven and where the messengers of the -Unseen were free to comfort her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm, still shaky and trembling, looked about with -the air of a man who does not know which way to turn. -Then he sat him down and braced himself for the effort -of reading the letter which had fallen like the crack of -doom upon the old man's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was such a letter as one true friend might write to -another, carefully worded so that it would not inflict -any unnecessary pain. It was a letter which had cost -its writer several sleepless nights--a letter of duty and -friendship for a man whom he had never met, but -whose name was still honoured in the service that he -had adorned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had the Colonel known of the old man's state of health -that letter would never have been written. But it told -the truth--the whole truth, without varnish or -embroidery, in the simple language which is all that a soldier -has at his command.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm Mackinnon set his teeth as he read it, and -surely in that awful moment he expiated part at least -of his many sins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After what seemed a long, long time he picked himself -up heavily, crushed the letter in his hand, and -threw it into the fire, where he watched it caught by a -greedy flame and consumed to the uttermost edge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he left the room, passed by, unseeing, the -doddering Diarmid in the hall, and slowly mounted the -narrow stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not pause or falter at the door of the chamber -of death, but opened it swiftly, closed it again, and -walked to the side of the bed. There, for a moment, he -stood in silence. Then Diarmid, listening below, heard -a cry which he never forgot. It was that of a soul in -an anguish which cannot be uttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgive!" was the only word that fell brokenly from -his lips as he knelt, sobbing by the bed, and laid his -aching and throbbing head on the snow-white gloss of -the coverlet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dead answered not, nor made any sign. But the -peace upon the beautiful old face was that of one who -has passed over, and who understands.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="vivien"><span class="large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">VIVIEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was three o'clock of the afternoon before Rosmead got -back to Achree, and he had not eaten any lunch. In -the stable-yard he met his sister Vivien, who had gone -round to look at some Aberdeen puppies, arrived that -very morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have been wondering about your absence, Peter," -she said with her quiet smile. "Have you had any -lunch?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None. I have been up at the Lodge of Creagh. The -old General is dead. Come back to the house, and I will -tell you about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A groom came forward to take the horse, and Rosmead, -linking his arm in his sister's, walked her away. They -were devotedly attached to each other, and the wreckage -of his dear and beautiful sister's life at the hands of an -unprincipled man had cast a deep cloud over Rosmead -which could never wholly be lifted. For every time he -looked at her face, every time he thought of the possibilities -of her kind nature and of the long years of loneliness -in front of her his soul was filled with a holy rage. On -such occasions he would have killed his brother-in-law, -and thought this no sin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien Rosmead, made for love, uniting in her sweet -nature all that is best in womanhood, all that makes for -the precious things of life, had been cheated on its very -threshold. But why had she been so blind, you ask? -Why had not her finer sense warned her of the risk she -ran? The answer is the one which has come from the -lips of a vast army of sad women who have believed that -their love could win and keep a man from his evil ways. -In this some few have succeeded but a multitude have -failed. Vivien had failed, and the irony and the misery -of it had embittered Peter Rosmead beyond all telling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old General dead!" echoed Vivien in astonishment. -"But he was not even ill. His son has been -here this morning and said he was very well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He had a shock, and he died on the spot. Heart -failure, I suppose. You are needed up there, Vivien. I -want you to go to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien looked at him questioningly, and seemed to -shrink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I don't know Miss Mackinnon, Peter. I've never -even seen her. She has shown us very plainly that she -does not wish to know us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is of no consequence. This sorrow lifts the -things above all such considerations. She is a woman -in need--a woman suffering acutely and terribly, and -she is almost utterly alone. If mother were able she -would go--you know that. You must take her place. -May I go back now and order a trap."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is plenty of time, Peter," she said, visibly -shrinking yet. "It is never quite dark in these long, -delightful days. Tell me what happened. Were you -there with her when her father died?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead briefly explained how the death had occurred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And she thinks that it was the letter that killed him? -How strange and sad! Did she give you no inkling as -to what it contained?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. But I have my own opinion--or rather suspicions. -It has something to do with her brother. As -I left the house and he entered it I heard her call him -a murderer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how dreadful and how unlikely!" cried Vivien -in deepening bewilderment. "Malcolm Mackinnon does -not strike one at all as that sort of person. He is so -transparent--just like a big, jolly schoolboy. I like -him so much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead was not surprised to hear it. Malcolm -Mackinnon had paid many visits to Achree, where he had -shown the very best and most lovable side of him. He -had jested with the gay Sadie, had been serious and -kindly and responsible when talking to Vivien, and had -sat like an attentive son by Mrs. Rosmead's invalid -couch. To Rosmead himself he had been simply a good -comrade, and, on the whole, the American had no fault -to find with him. Yet, somehow, these words, falling -from Vivien's lips, disquieted him not a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid there's something behind it all. Probably -Mackinnon has sowed his wild oats, and this is the -aftermath. Anyway, the old man is dead, and she is in a -dreadful state. Her eyes haunt me. It is a woman she -needs--mothering, in fact, and if you could bring her -right down here to mother it would be a Christian act. -Where's Sadie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Drummond came to lunch and has taken her -away to Balquhidder to show her Rob Roy's grave. Then -they are going to Garrion to tea. What a bright creature -she is! She kept us laughing right through lunch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm rather glad, on the whole, that Sadie is not about. -Well, dear, while you are getting ready I will see mother. -I took a message from her to Creagh. Would you like -me to go up with you, to drive you and wait outside, -perhaps?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just as you like. But perhaps, as you've only just -come down, I had better go alone. We don't want to -overwhelm her with Rosmeads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded understandingly, and they parted on the -stairs, Rosmead proceeding up one of the winding ways -to his mother's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had not altered the interior of the old house in -any way. They had only spent money to make it -comfortable, covered bare stairs and passages with rich -carpets of neutral tints, and gathered about them all the -comforts and refinements which are at the command of -wealth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Rosmead occupied the General's chamber, which -had a large dressing-room adjoining, and from its quaint -little windows she could see the Loch and the hills -beyond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a gentle, frail old lady, very small and -delicately built, but her sweet face in its frame of -snow-white hair had great strength.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was from her undoubtedly that Rosmead had -inherited his decision of character, his deeply-rooted -principles, his inflexible will. He was very like her -physically, and he worshipped her. Up till now no -woman had ousted her from the shrine of his heart. -The relation between them was indeed idyllic and did -much to keep the softer side of Rosmead in the -foreground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her keen, fine black eyes, so like his own, lifted -themselves inquiringly to his face as he entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, as you have taken such a long time to carry -out my behest, I take it that you were well received, my -son."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I was, but that is not what delayed me," he -answered as he bent to kiss her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then in a few words he made her acquainted with the -tragedy of the morning. As she listened, full of grief and -sympathy, she, unconsciously to herself, watched her -son keenly. She saw that he was moved far beyond his -wont, that his voice, when he spoke of Isla Mackinnon, -vibrated with an entirely new note. And she wondered, -and her desire to see the girl was quickened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is the most desolate creature on God's earth, -mother, and if only I could wrap you up in my arms and -carry you to Creagh you could heal her with a touch, as -you have so often healed your other children."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The expression "your other children" impressed her. -Could it be possible that already Peter's thoughts and -longings had flown as far as the day when he should give -another daughter to her heart?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must bring her to me, dear. It is the only way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vivien is going up. Next to you, she will be the best -to help her. It is a woman that she needs. All her life -long apparently she has been fighting side by side with -men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fighting!" repeated Mrs. Rosmead with a slight -wonderment in her tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know, she has had to do everything for and -to be everything to the old man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how? He has a dear son, Peter. You must not -be unjust to young Mackinnon. Oh, I have heard that -they say things here in the Glen about him, but when -he comes here and sits by me, I believe none of them. -He only needs a little guiding, and I think I have -gathered from him that his sister has been a little hard -on him at times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead with Isla's most bitter cry in his ears, -remained wholly unconvinced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The ins and outs of the story we don't know, mother. -Perhaps we shall never know them. But of this I am -sure--that Isla Mackinnon would be hard on no man -without a cause. She is a splendid creature, and----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter, come here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sweet voice was peremptory, the swift, humorous -black eyes were compelling. He came obediently, as of -old, to her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look straight at me--no, not like that!--very straight, -Peter Rosmead. Is this to be the woman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, mother," he answered, with the simplicity of a -big child. "Please God, it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then bring her to me quickly, my son, that I may -get to know and love her--ay, and to learn whether she -is worthy of Peter Rosmead. I have never yet seen the -woman who is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter laughed, in no way uplifted by her loving pride. -His nature indeed was singularly unspoiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It can't be done in such a desperate hurry. She is -cold and fine, and, like her own hills, she is difficult of -approach. I shall have to walk warily and win her -slowly. But win her I shall or go unmarried to my grave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus did Peter Rosmead quite quietly dispose of the -biggest thing that had come into his life. And his -mother, watching the firm set of his square chin, the -invincible light in his eyes, gloried in his strength, and -had not the smallest doubt that he would attain the -desire of his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was any pang of disappointment hers? To every -mother the moment when her son takes another woman -to his heart is one of supreme pain. This is as -inevitable as the law of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Rosmead desired her son to marry, and she -had kept him at her side a long time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So Vivien will go up? Is she getting ready now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, bring my writing-block and pencil, and I will -write a message for Miss Mackinnon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He obeyed her, but she did not show him what she -wrote. Nor was he curious to see it. He had never in -all his life known her to do the wrong thing or speak -the wrong word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a woman in whom grace was developed to a -very high degree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien came in presently, her slender, graceful figure -enveloped in its capacious coat of Harris tweed, and a -small neat toque of green velvet crowning her beautiful -head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter has been telling you, mother. Do you think -it is the right thing for me to do--to go to Creagh, I -mean? I confess to a little hesitation. I am so afraid -of intruding on her. Even the pride of old Virginia -must pale before that of Glenogle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your heart will dictate the fitting word, my child. -Give this to the poor girl, and if she will come to us here -to rest awhile in the house where she was born we shall -try not to make her feel that we have taken her home -from her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead tucked his sister in, and, just as the horse -was about to start, he spoke again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You won't be discouraged if it is a little difficult at -first, Vivien? Try to think only of her desperate need."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor old Peter," she said whimsically. "I never -saw him so much in earnest about anything. I do -believe he would like nothing better than to be going back -himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their eyes met in a smile, and she drove off, waving -her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drifted about the place all the afternoon, conscious -of a growing restlessness that he could not shake off, -his thoughts all the while following Vivien to the Moor -of Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she arrived at the small plain house, which she -now saw for the first time, a vast pity filled her heart. -Creagh had beautiful surroundings, but nothing could -make it a home. It was bare and uninviting--a mere -shelter; and Vivien, who loved beautiful places, and -who had the whole art of the Home Beautiful at her -finger-ends, wondered how Isla could have borne to -exchange the old-world charm of Achree for this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had not heard the whole story of the transaction. -Rosmead had preserved a singular reticence regarding -the terms of his tenancy of Achree, and Vivien merely -thought that the Mackinnons either wanted the money -badly or had some other family reason for letting their -ancestral home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The blinds were all down, but, as she directed the -man to stop outside the gate, she could see the open -door at the end of the short avenue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait here, Farquhar. I will not disturb them by -driving up to the door."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left her heavy coat on the seat, and in her neat, -plain suit of blue serge walked up the short approach to -the open door, where Diarmid, who had heard the rumble -of wheels, stood waiting to receive her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at home," were the words ready on his lips, but -something in Vivien's face arrested his attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Mrs. Rodney Payne, Mr. Rosmead's sister, and -I have come at my brother's request to see Miss -Mackinnon. Do you think she would see me for a few -minutes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid hesitated for a moment. Then he was wholly -vanquished by the light in the strange lady's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma'am, if you'll step inside, I'll see," he said respectfully. -"She's sittin' up there in the room with him, and -we can do naught with her. Maype, if she would see -you, it might be better for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is her brother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He hass been out of the house for 'oors, ma'am, and -we are all to pieces here in Creagh, and there's nothing -but dool and woe upon my folk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien's eyes became moist at this expressive phrase -which, falling pathetically from the old servant's lips, -adequately summed up the whole affairs of the Mackinnons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid," she said very gently, "that if you take -my name to Miss Mackinnon she will not see me. I -am going to take a great deal upon myself. If you will -just show me the way I will go to her without -announcement. She can only send me away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sure, an' that is so, but I do not think, seeing -you, ma'am, that she will do that," said Diarmid earnestly, -and he held open the door for her to pass in as if she -had been a queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They trod the narrow stairs very softly. On the -half-landing Diarmid paused and stood aside while he pointed -with finger that trembled slightly to the closed door of -the room where Mackinnon slept his last sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien braced herself, for the thing she was about to -do was not only unusual, but might very easily be -misconstrued. She took a little quick breath as her fingers -closed upon the handle of the door. The next moment -she turned it, slipped in, and closed it behind her again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The blinds of the front window only were down, but -the sun, now veering westward, shone in at the window -in the gable-end and lay in a soft yellow flood upon the -quiet room. A shaft of sunshine even lay athwart the -bed, touching as it passed Isla's motionless figure, where -she sat upon a chair by the bed-side, her hands lightly -clasped on her lap, her eyes staring straight in front of -her, unseeing, uncomprehending, a look of almost -hopeless misery upon her face. At sight of a strange woman -in the doorway, however, she sprang up, quivering with -indignation. She would have pointed to the door, to -which she tried to hasten, but something in Vivien's -beautiful face--some unimagined quality of rarest -sympathy deterred her. She stopped with the very words -of dismissal frozen on her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien approached quickly, laid a tender hand on her -shrinking shoulder and spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, my dear! I am Vivien Rosmead, I too -have suffered. Come out into the sunshine and let us -talk. If even we do not talk we can cry together, and -that will help us both."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was powerless to be angry. Her brief indignation -at the intrusion of a stranger upon her most sacred -privacy passed as a tale that is told.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very kind of you, but--but--I hardly know you, -and there is nothing to be said or done. Everything is -over--that is all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I too have thought so, dear," said Vivien softly. -"Come, my poor darling. He does not need you any -more. Come, and let us talk and think of those who do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla suffered herself to be led away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Afterwards, looking back upon that incident, she was -amazed at herself, at the quiet compelling power which -Vivien, in common with all the Rosmeads, seemed to -possess, and against which ordinary folk could not stand -for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien's arm was about her slender body as they -descended the stairs. She it was who guided her out -into the flood of the sunshine which, meeting them at -the door, seemed to envelop them in a quiet radiance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, as if dazzled, put up her hands to ward it off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is cruel," she said in a low, difficult voice. "How -can there be any brightness when I am like this? It is -very cruel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where shall we go?" asked Vivien softly. "Shall -we go to some spot where we shall be very, very quiet -and undisturbed? I should like you to forget who I -am, even what has brought me, and just to be as if I did -not exist. If you feel like talking, then talk. But if -you want to be quiet, I can be quiet too. Oh, my dear, -I can be very, very quiet. I have been through the -deeps, where there is nothing possible but dumb silence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla then remembered the tragedy of Vivien Rosmead's -life, and her own pity and sympathy which in times past -had never failed any in need, awoke to newness of life. -The frozen springs of her being leaped again with life, -and, with an almost unconscious desire to help, she -slipped her hand through Vivien's arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why is it that life is so full of hideous suffering for -women?" she asked with a vague passion. "I used to -believe in God--in all things beautiful and good. Now -I believe nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your faith will come back. Even I say that," said -Vivien softly. "I don't want to belittle your suffering, -dear, but it is of an impersonal kind. The woman who -cannot be blamed if she loses faith is the one who has -been cheated in her own self, whose womanhood has -been flouted and scorned, whose love has been trampled -on and despised. That is where the silent deeps are. -May I say just what I will?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely," answered Isla, lifted clean out of herself by -something tragic and mysterious in that other woman's -face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father was an old man, full of years and -honour. His life had become a little burdensome to -him, and though I never saw him, I know that his fine -spirit must have fretted at his forced inactivity. What -you must do now is to dwell upon his rejuvenation. He -has gone where there is no death, where his powers will -be restored, where once more all things are possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's hungry eyes never for a moment left the -speaking face of the woman at her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the time they were moving slowly, but surely, -away from the house up to the wide spaces of the great -moor where the great silence dwelt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me more," was the mute question of Isla's eyes -and lips.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hand-in-the-dark"><span class="large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE HAND IN THE DARK</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"It is all true--what you say," said Isla with a little -shiver. "But what is to become of me? He was my -life, my work, my all. I have nothing further to do in -the whole wide world. My life is over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is your brother," Vivien ventured to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She immediately saw that she had made a mistake--that -here undoubtedly lay the sting and the crux of the -whole sad situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla impatiently shook herself, almost as a dog might -shake from him the element of water he dislikes. She -made no remark, however, except to move her head -in impatient dissent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no money, no prospects, no friends, I shall -have to go out into the world and earn my bread. -But how? That is the curse of people in our position--we -are taught nothing, we are trained to take for granted -that the world exists for us, that we are in some sense a -privileged class. Then there is a crash, and if we go -under is it to be wondered at or are we to be blamed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien listened in the sheerest wonder. She had no -idea that things were at such a low ebb with the -Mackinnons. Remembering Malcolm's airy inconsequence -and his jokes about his hard-up state, which -seemed to sit lightly enough upon him, she was even -inclined to think Isla must be exaggerating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not easy for Vivien Rosmead to realize poverty. -She had been reared in a luxurious home, and had -married a millionaire, and, though she had never lacked -in sympathy or benevolence towards the poor, she had -not known one ungratified whim. She knew that poverty -existed, but it was impossible to associate its more -sordid aspects with Isla Mackinnon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, surely out of the estate there must be ample -provision for so small a family?" she ventured to say. -"Achree is not a small place. The rent of it alone----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is mortgaged to the hilt," interrupted Isla with a -sort of dull scorn. "I could not and would not take a -penny from it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely you have relatives. Is not Sir Thomas -Mackinnon of Barras a relative of yours? Some friends -of ours had Barras for two seasons running."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is my uncle, but I couldn't be dependent on him. -He is not rich, and he has his own family to provide for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He cannot be poor. I saw the account of his -daughters' presentation frocks in the fashion papers last -week," said Vivien with a slight smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that means nothing! They got the loan of a -house for the season, and a very clever maid of Aunt -Jean's, married in London, made their frocks. You are -so rich in America that you haven't an idea of the makeshifts -some of us have to practise here," said Isla, waxing -amazingly eloquent and convincing for Vivien's enlightenment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien did not care what the theme, so long as it -roused even a passing interest in the girl's mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I am sure that something will happen to provide -a way," she said hopefully. "It is impossible to imagine -Glenogle or any of the glens without you. Have you -any idea, I wonder, just how they regard you? I do not -go about very much, but my sister Sadie, who has made -friends for miles round, is always bringing home some -fresh tales about the devotion of the people to their dear -Miss Isla. Only yesterday she said quite dolefully, 'We -may as well give up the ghost, Vivien. If angels and -archangels came to bless Lochearn and Glenogle, they -would have to walk behind Isla Mackinnon.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of herself, Isla smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does not mean so very much--only that I have -lived all my life among them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It means everything," said Vivien clearly. "It means -that you are in their hearts, that none of them could -bear hurt or sorrow to come near you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but that is the hurt of it all!" cried Isla most -pitifully. "The more we love people the more it hurts -us to know that we are powerless to keep suffering or -sorrow away from them. I would have laid down my -life for my father, but I could not prevent Mal----I -could not prevent others from breaking his heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You did what you could, though," said Vivien, again -struck by the bitter allusion to Malcolm. "Now I want -to give you a message from my mother. She wishes very -much to see you. If only she had been able she would -have come to-day instead of me. What she wishes to -say is that if you would like to take your dear father -down to Achree for the last few days we can go out. It -seems an odd thing to say--but we should be glad to go -out. We can go to the hotel, or even back to Glasgow -for a few days, or even weeks. My mother came down -so comfortably in the motor that it would not be a trouble, -or even a risk for her to return in it. So, dear, just say -the word, and we shall be gone to-morrow so that you and -your dear ones may come home to your own place. This -is a note from my mother to you in which she proposes -this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla took the note with a murmured word of acknowledgment. -She was much moved. She stood still on the -green tops of the heather, and something indescribable -swept across her face. She stretched out her arms so -that they fell on Vivien's shoulders, and when she was -drawn into her tender embrace she laid her head down -on her breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, now I know what dear people you are! God -bless you! I should like to do that if it would not hurt -or trouble you. Then all the people he loved and who -loved him can come and see him before they take him -away to Balquhidder. Oh, thank you, thank you, I want -to come and see your dear mother. I will go back with -you now if you will take me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was like a creature transformed, and while the -sight touched Vivien Rosmead inexpressibly it also filled -her with a great sadness. For, if this was how Isla -Mackinnon regarded the house of her fathers, what must it -be to her to see strangers in it and to have before her -eyes the prospect of losing it altogether?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, then," said Vivien with alacrity. "The evenings -are so long and golden now that we can easily bring -you back before dark. My brother will drive you himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am thinking," said Isla, and as they turned to go, -it almost seemed as if the spring had come back to her -step, "I am thinking why should you go out? There is -plenty of room for us all. If you would only lend us one -or two rooms for a few days and let us have the freedom -of the house----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would not be the same at all," said Vivien decidedly. -"What you want is to shut the door upon the outside -world and forget all about us, to have only your own -people about you and to have to consider nobody but -them. It is only in this way that my mother will arrange -it. I am sure that you will find that this is the best -arrangement?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a great thing for you to do," said Isla breathlessly. -"I have never heard or known of anybody who would -think of a thing so beautiful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nonsense. There are many far more beautiful -things done in the world every day, and nobody hears of -them. It will cost us nothing, you see. And, moreover, -it is the right thing to do. It would be clearly wrong for -the Chief of the Mackinnons to be carried to his last rest -from this lonely and inaccessible place, beautiful though -it is. He ought to be--he must be, borne from the house -of his fathers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes," said Isla, with a little sob in her voice. "To -think that you feel like that, that--you understand everything! -Now, I'm so very glad that you have Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hardness had melted and the desperate hunted -look had gone from her eyes. Once more she was alert, -full of affairs, thinking of all there was to do and ready -for all emergencies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she drove down Glenogle beside the smart groom on -the front seat of the dogcart her face did not once lose -its uplifted look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes swam in tears as Vivien and she swept through -the familiar gates of Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, dear Mrs. Rodney Payne, was it your mother -her own self, who thought of this--this beautiful thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my dear," answered Vivien quietly, "it was my -brother. He is like that. He thinks always of the thing -that will make most people happy and of how to do it in -the happiest way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought he was like that when he was up at Creagh -with me to-day," said Isla simply. "What it must be to -have a brother like that--a brother who thinks of others -first!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she paused there, and it was as if she rebuked herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter Rosmead, from the window of his dressing-room, -where he was getting ready for dinner, was thunderstruck -by the vision of Isla Mackinnon driving up to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bravo, Vivien!" he said to himself, and his pulses -quickened as he made haste with his black tie, achieving -a bow less pleasing than usual to his fastidious taste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had reached the bottom of the stair when his sister -and Isla came in by the hall door; and, seeing him for -the first time in evening dress, Isla was immediately -struck by his air of distinction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have come to see your mother, Mr. Rosmead," she -said simply. "I can't say any more. Your sister must -explain and say all that is necessary for me. Where -shall I find your mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Peter who took her to the door of his mother's -room, nay, who entered it with her. Isla herself saw no -significance in that simple and natural act, but Peter, who -intended it to be significant, felt a high courage, an -indefinable joy at his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother, this is Miss Mackinnon. Vivien has been so -fortunate as to get her to come down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla stood still just inside the door, looking wistfully--even -questioningly at the small elegant figure on the -couch, at the beautiful, softly-coloured face framed by -its white hair, and her eyes had a yearning look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had never known her mother and, though Aunt -Jean had been passing kind, there was little softness -about her. Certainly she had never sought to mother the -self-reliant, independent Isla, even when she was only -a long-limbed girl, needing guiding and making many -mistakes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sweetness and love had been the rule of Mrs. Rosmead's -life. By these she had won and kept her children so near -and close to her that they kept nothing hidden from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes, too, were full of questioning as they travelled -to the girl's pale pathetic face. Peter had been no -common son to her, and it was to no common woman -that she could give him up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come here, my dear. You have no mother. I have -room for you in my heart," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Rosmead, with smarting eyes, went out by the door -and closed it very softly behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God bless her! God bless them both!" he said very -softly, under his breath, as he went down to Vivien.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am all blown to pieces by the winds of the Moor of -Creagh, Peterkin," she said. "If you are very good you -can come up and sit in my dressing-room while I make -myself decent. Then I can tell you what happened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This dear intimacy, so precious to them both, had -never been more precious than on that night. Half an -hour later Isla sat down to eat with them in the old -familiar room, and by that time the distress, the strain, -the awful hopeless misery had gone from her face. She -talked quite rationally and naturally of all the affairs of -the Glen, and when she said that she would like to go -home as soon after dinner as they could conveniently -let her away, Peter asked whether he might have the -privilege of driving her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thanked him with her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where I have to be grateful for so much there -are not any words left," she said simply. "I will say -good-bye to your mother, if you please, only until -to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are coming back to Achree to-morrow, then?" -said Rosmead, when, with exceeding care and gentleness, -he had tucked her into the comfortable cart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, to-morrow. May we talk of it as we go up? -I don't know how to thank you for so kindly driving me -home. When I think of what otherwise it would have -been like, I am quite speechless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So much the better," he answered with a smile. -"Look back, dear Miss Mackinnon. The girls are -waving to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla turned round in her seat and blew a kiss on the -wings of the evening breeze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it Mrs. Hylton P. Rosmead--eh, Vivien?" said -Sadie whimsically. "Did you ever see anyone more -mightily pleased with himself than our Peterkin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien smiled, but said neither yea nor nay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you arranged with my mother, then?" -asked Rosmead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are to come down to-morrow evening, Mr. Rosmead. -She says you will take her to Glasgow in the -car to-morrow. Are you quite sure it can be done -comfortably?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite. Then, you and your brother will bring him -down to Achree to-morrow? I suppose Mr. Mackinnon -will make all the necessary arrangements."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was silent, a little chill creeping all over her and -causing her to shiver. Her companion bent over her -anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had forgotten Malcolm," she said quite frankly. -"I have always been used to arrange things for my -father, you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand. But now your brother is the head of -the house," said Rosmead gently. "Probably I shall -see him when we get up to Creagh, and can make the -final arrangements with him. I should like to tell him -that the Achree stables are at his disposal. We shall -all go to-morrow by the car, and so you will be perfectly -free of the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you very much," said Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But her voice was very low, and the spiritless note -had crept into it again. Rosmead found the sudden -change difficult to grasp, and it confirmed him in the -opinion that there was some serious breach between -the brother and sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When do you propose that the burial shall take -place, and where will it be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Mackinnon burying-place is at Balquhidder, of -course," she said, as if surprised at the question. "I -have not thought about the day, but probably now it -must be Monday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They became silent then, driving in the track of the -young moon towards the hills and the moor of the great -silence. Isla felt no need of speech. A great sense of -peace and comfort was hers as she nestled there by -Rosmead's side, the thick frieze of his driving-coat -making for her a buttress from the wind. She, who had -so long cared for others was fully conscious of the -sweetness of being cared for. She was in no haste for the -drive to end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up at the Lodge of Creagh there was desolation and -woe--and there also was the brother between whom and -herself there was a great gulf fixed. She had not seen -him since she had driven him forth from her presence -with hard words, and she had no idea of the dreary vigil -he had kept, wrestling with remorse and shame up there -on the heather of Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead was perfectly happy. He loved this woman -with a great and growing love, and her nearness to him -filled all his being. To render her the smallest service -was such a joy to him that just then he asked for no -more. All the chivalry of a singularly chivalrous race, -all the fine gallant tenderness of the best in old Virginia -was uppermost in Rosmead that night, which for both -was a night of remembrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall always think of this night," said Isla very -low as they drew near to the gate of Creagh. "This -afternoon I thought it would close in despair. It is you -and your dear people who have lifted me out of it, and -God will bless and reward you. I never can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead, greatly daring, took the small gloved hand -which lay outside the rug and raised it to his lips. But -no word did he speak, good nor bad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Isla made a little exclamation of surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a machine of some kind at the door, -Mr. Rosmead. Don't you see the lights?" she said rather -excitedly. "I wonder who it can be at this time of -night. It must be nearly nine o'clock.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Close on it. Probably it is some neighbour calling -on your brother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It might be Mr. Drummond from Garrion. I know -of nobody else who would take the trouble," said Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A minute later she proved her surmise to be right. -The high-stepping Garrion roans were champing their bits -and pawing the ground in front of the narrow doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead sprang down and with great tenderness helped -Isla to alight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will come in of course, as you wish to see my -brother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will come in if you desire it, but I do not forget -that older friends may have the prior right, Miss -Mackinnon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do desire it. It will be a help to me," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And together they passed over the threshold. Diarmid -hastened out to meet them, and behind, from the library, -came Malcolm and Neil Drummond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead, while apparently observing nothing, took -note of two things--the curious, half-shrinking, -half-defiant expression on Malcolm Mackinnon's face, and the -distinct antagonism that marked the manner of Neil -Drummond towards himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you have come back, Isla?" said Malcolm awkwardly. -"Neil and I were just discussing whether we -should come to Achree to fetch you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rosmead was so kind as to bring me up, and I -think he wishes to speak to you, Malcolm," said Isla. -"Good evening, Neil."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil came forward with outstretched hand, his honest -eyes full of deepest sympathy and compassion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I need not say what I feel about this, Isla. I heard -it at Strathyre this evening, at six o'clock, and I couldn't -believe it. I was only on my bicycle, so I went home -straight and got the horses. My dear, this is a terrible -thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla nodded and, seeing that Malcolm had disappeared -into the library with Rosmead, she asked Neil to come -to the little dining-room which he and Malcolm had -recently left, and where the remains of Malcolm's -evening meal still stood on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond closed the door, and Isla sat down, as if -very weary. He was surprised to behold her so calm -and self-possessed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What took you away to Achree, Isla?" he asked -jealously. "Malcolm has been frightfully anxious about -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He needn't have been. I left a message with -Diarmid," she answered listlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it seemed odd for you to go there to these new -people. They are not your friends, Isla. We have a -better right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not my friends!" she said in tones of wonderment. -"You say that because you don't understand--because -you don't know what they are. I think there cannot be -many people like them in the world, Neil. Do you know -that they are all turning out of Achree to-morrow--even -the frail invalid mother--and going right back to Glasgow -on their motor-car in order that we may have Achree to -ourselves for the funeral?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond looked the surprise he felt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are they, though? That is uncommonly good of -them," he admitted, though only half-heartedly. "Then, -you go back to Achree to-morrow with the poor old -General?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Mr. Rosmead is arranging the whole matter -with Malcolm now, I expect. I am very tired, Neil. I -think I shall have to go to bed soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, of course--poor dear girl, you must be! Kitty -sent her love. She would have come over with me, she -said, only she was not sure whether you would be able -to see people. She will come over to-morrow if you'll -give her leave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very kind," murmured Isla, thinking of the woman -who had not waited for leave--who had come of her own -free will and gathered her to her heart. "I don't think -she should come to-morrow, Neil," she said, rousing -herself with an effort on perceiving his disappointment. "I -shall be busy most of the day, you see. To-morrow -night, perhaps--if you don't mind. It will not be -so far to come to Achree as up here. Give her my love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond shifted rather restlessly from one foot to -the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isla, I hate to say it, but it is what I feel. I'm -beastly jealous of these American outsiders. You must -not let them absorb you. Of course we know that their -money can do a lot of things. We can't all afford -thousand pound motors for quick transit, but our hearts -are in the right place and we'd go down on our knees to -serve you--every one of us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's eyes suddenly filled with tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know, Neil. Don't trouble about it. They have -been very kind. Of course I know that if you had had -Achree you would have done just the same thing. Was -that Malcolm calling? We had better go out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil opened the door, and they passed into the narrow -hall again, where Malcolm and Rosmead stood together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For just the fraction of a moment nobody spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rosmead has told me of their great, unheard-of -kindness, Isla," said Malcolm in a queer strained voice, -"and we have arranged it all. To-morrow afternoon--late -about six o'clock we shall take him down to Achree. -Mr. Rosmead is to run his fast motor to Callander in the -morning in order to make the necessary arrangements. -I have told him we can't thank him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," answered Isla very low, "we can't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," said Rosmead cheerily. "Good -night then, Miss Mackinnon. Go to bed and have a -good sleep. Good night, Mr. Drummond."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good night," said Neil, and he affected not to see -the outstretched hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead took no offence. He was too big-hearted, -and perhaps he had an inkling of how it was with the -young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had better go, too, I suppose," said Neil a little -stiffly, and Isla bade them both good night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Malcolm returned from seeing them off he could -not find Isla, and when he went upstairs her door was -shut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tapped lightly at it, and she opened it just a few -inches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll excuse me to-night, won't you, Malcolm?" -she said gently but coldly. "I am very tired. I couldn't -discuss anything to-night. To-morrow we can talk -things over, but I want just to say that I am sorry I -spoke as I did this afternoon. He would not have liked -it, I am sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm had not a word to say. He murmured good -night and went downstairs to the lonely hearth, where -he tried to extract some comfort from his pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his quiet was disturbed by the low sound of his -sister's sobbing from the room above.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-passing-of-mackinnon"><span class="large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE PASSING OF MACKINNON</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A chamber-maid at the St. Enoch's Hotel in Glasgow -brought a sheaf of letters to Rosmead along with -shaving-water on Monday morning at half-past seven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He glanced over them with quick carelessness, and, -finding one small, square, black-edged envelope, -addressed in a handwriting that he did not know, he -quickly broke the seal, which bore an unfamiliar coat of -arms. Once more his pulses beat high, for this was the -first time Isla Mackinnon had written to him, and over -a man in love the handwriting of the woman he loves -wields a surprising power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus did Isla write to Rosmead, and the few simple -words meant more from her than whole pages of words -from most women. She did not possess the gift of -expression, but could only write of real things, and when -these were done with the letter came to an end:--</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"ACHREE, </span><em class="italics">Saturday night</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"DEAR MR. ROSMEAD,--I am writing to say that I hope--that -we all hope--that you will be able to spare the -time to come out to Lochearnhead on Monday to attend -my father's funeral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is arranged for twelve o'clock from here, and will -arrive at Balquhidder Kirkyard at half-past one, which -suits the trains from both the north and the south.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you do not know the customs of our country, -but it would please me if you would take one of the -cords of the coffin as they lower it into the grave. These -are taken by relatives and friends only, and, God knows, -you have been a friend. It is arranged that if you are -there some one will give you your place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My uncle, Sir Thomas Mackinnon, arrived from -London to-day. He is my father's only living relative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you will find it convenient either to come by -the train or to drive in your motor straight to -Balquhidder, in which case I should not see you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please to tell your mother that by Thursday of this -week I shall have gone back to Creagh or shall have gone -away somewhere else. What I really mean to say is that -Achree will be ready for her return. I cannot say more.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"I am, sincerely yours,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"ISLA MACKINNON."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Rosmead forgot all about his shaving-water until it -grew cold, and he had to ring for more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had longed with a great longing to go out to the -burying of Mackinnon, but he had not contemplated -doing so without invitation. And, lo! the invitation had -come from Isla herself, couched in warm, friendly terms -which no man--least of all Rosmead--could resist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a glow at his heart as he stood before the -mirror, attending to the duties of his toilet, noticing for -the first time, with a kind of silent rage, the lines on his -face and the evidences of middle-age beginning to creep -about his mouth and temples. He wanted to be for ever -young for her dear sake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had, in the midst of her forlorn grief, taken time -and thought to write to him to offer him what he -understood was a family privilege, and he would go--oh, yes, -there was no car fast enough to take him--right to her -door, to her very feet!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Away with the train or car that would convey him only -to Balquhidder when Isla had expressed even the faintest -desire to see him! It would be their last meeting until -he could return from America, for on Thursday he must -set out upon the journey which never in all his life had -he been so loth to take.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pondered on all the details of the day in front of -him, and, by copious use of the telephone in his room, -had arranged them all before he went down to breakfast. -He did not wait for his sisters. There was nothing to -hurry them in the mornings in Glasgow, and generally -they breakfasted with their mother in her sitting-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At nine o'clock, dressed in full motor garb, he tapped -at his mother's door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have had a letter from Miss Mackinnon this -morning, asking me to go out to the funeral at Achree, -and I'm going now. It will take me quite all my time to -get there by noon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Rosmead smiled upon him, well pleased. She -did not ask to see the letter. She only bade him take -care of himself and give her love to Isla, and to assure -her that there was no need to hurry away from Achree. -He felt glad that neither of his sisters had yet appeared. -He left a message for them and went off to the waiting -car, ready for what lay in front of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not a very pleasant day in the city. There was -a light fog hanging over it, through which a fine rain -was beginning to filter dismally. But when they got -away from the river-bed the rain stopped, and, though -the sky remained grey and pensive, it was fair overhead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sun shone all the way, and when he came to the -hills Rosmead thought it was an ideal day for a burying--just -typical of the grief which overshadowed a whole -glen. The sky was grey and very soft, and a mist lay -upon the hills, while the heaviness of unshed tears was -in the soundless air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About eleven o'clock Rosmead, who had had a splendid -run without mishap or stop, swept by the incomparable -beauty of Loch Lubnaig, through bonnie Strathyre, and -down upon the valley of the Earn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Long before he reached it he was struck by the signs -of activity on the usually quiet and lonely road. All -sorts and conditions of vehicles moved towards Glenogle, -containing all sorts and conditions of people. At the -hotel door there was quite a medley of waiting traps. -Rosmead drew up there and went inside to remove his -motor garb and to put on the decent mourning, safely -stowed at the back of the car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked graver and older in the tall silk hat and -dark overcoat with the black band on the arm, and he -was respectfully recognized by many.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The story of how of their own accord the Americans -had vacated Achree in order that the family might have -it to themselves for such a great occasion had got about -in the glens. It had filled all who heard it with a sort -of personal gratitude and appreciation that was bound -to have an aftermath. They did not love the -stranger--especially the American stranger--in these remote -Highland glens, though his money was sometimes necessary -to the comfort of their existence. They accepted him -as inevitable, like motor-cars, and new railway lines -cutting into their fair hill-sides and ugly viaducts -spanning their wimpling burns--all necessary evils which -must be endured with fortitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Driving very slowly towards Achree, Rosmead was -astonished at the increasing number of people both in -vehicles and on foot. He was unaware that in Scotland -a burying--especially the burying of a great chief--is a -public event, in which every man, woman, and child -of the district takes a personal interest. Everybody -came as a matter of course to see Mackinnon of Achree -laid to rest, and all were made welcome, though no -invitations, in the ordinary sense, had been sent out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In some doubt as to whether he should take his car -up to the house, Rosmead addressed himself to a -policeman--a most unusual spectacle in Glenogle--who was -on duty at the gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rosmead, sir, I think?" said the man, touching -his hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you are to go up, please. I had my orders -this morning. They are expecting you at the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead gave the order to drive slowly, and presently -he came within sight of the house where the cortège -stood before the open door. There were two other cars, -and the Garrion roans were conspicuous at the bend of -the avenue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead alighted and walked over to the door where -Diarmid was on the look-out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rosmead, sir. I haf a message from Miss Isla -for you, if it pe that she would not see you pefore you -leave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She says will you please come pack to the house if -you can spare the time after you haf peen at Balquhidder, -as she would like to speak with you, whatefer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead silently nodded. Had the American boat -sailed that very afternoon it is safe to say that one -passenger at least would have failed to take his berth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid, very respectful with a touch of gratitude in -his mien, waited upon Rosmead and finally ushered him -to the library where a small company were already -assembled for the service that was to take place at a -quarter to twelve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm, very pale and slightly haggard, came forward -immediately to greet Rosmead, whom he introduced -to his uncle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Happy to meet you, sir," said Sir Tom, as his great -hand grasped the American's slender one in a grip of -iron. "We, as a family, will not readily forget your -kindness at this time to the son and daughter of my -poor brother. It was a Christian act, sir--a Christian act."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead asked him not to say more, passing it over -as if ashamed that so much should be made of it. Then -he stepped back and looked about at the people in the -room. Some of them he recognized, but Neil Drummond, -sourly resentful of his intimate presence there, unaware, -of course, that he came by Isla's special invitation, did -not suffer his eyes to alight on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead was impressed by the circumstance that -there were no flowers upon the coffin--only the Union -Jack and the old soldier's sword, to the hilt of which -was tied a bunch of white heather. All was simple, -severe, and impressive. The short service was quickly -over. Then a sudden, weird sound broke upon the -listening ears--the wailing of the pipes, which filled the -soundless air with a melancholy music.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this time Isla had not appeared, and Rosmead -strained his eyes in vain for a sight of her. But it was -denied him, and he had not even asked for her welfare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a great burying, the like of which had not been -seen in the glens for many a year. As the cortège, half -a mile long, slowly defiled through Lochearnhead it was -joined by a score or more of vehicles that waited it there. -And so it was all the way to the Braes of Balquhidder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead, who had left his car at Achree and entered -one of the mourning coaches, felt the impressiveness of -the whole scene, and was almost moved to tears when -they turned away from the grave to the sweet haunting -strains of the "Flowers of the Forest".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the mourners fell away slowly from the grave-side -some one touched his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be glad if you will drive back to Achree with -me, Mr. Rosmead," said the voice of Sir Thomas Mackinnon. -"I should like to have a little talk with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was noted by the curious, and it was afterwards -said that more attention could not have been paid to -the American if he had been sib to the Mackinnons. -But there was not one who added that the attention was -misplaced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A sad affair, isn't it, for those who are left?" said -Sir Thomas as they drove slowly away, "for my niece -especially. You see, her father was her life-work, so to -speak, and now that it is taken out of her hands she -will feel stranded for a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Mackinnon is one who will always find something -to occupy her heart and her hands," said Rosmead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Uncle Tom assented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They tell me you have Achree on an option, -Mr. Rosmead," he said--and it was evident that that was -the thing uppermost in his mind. "I hope that you -like the place, and feel minded to stop on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to, but I have not yet had any -conversation about it. I shall have to see Mr. Mackinnon -to-day, as I leave Scotland on Thursday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You leave Scotland? But I understood that you -were here indefinitely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. The business which brought me is concluded, -and there is work lying to my hand in America."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, do you leave your ladies here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, for six months. Our tenancy of Achree does -not expire till the end of October, and nothing, therefore, -need be decided now. But I think that my mother likes -the place so well that we might take a lease of it--that -is, if Mr. Mackinnon does not wish possession for -himself. Will the General's death alter nothing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing. They can't afford to live in Achree--and -that's the plain truth of it, Mr. Rosmead. In these days -very few of us can afford to live in the place of our -fathers. Here am I stranded in a London house, like a -bull in a china shop. I loathe the life, but I haven't -any choice. A relation of my wife offered the loan of -the house for the season: my girls had to come out, and -we couldn't afford to refuse. I don't know what's to -become of us now, as our mourning will stop all the -gaiety. But about the Achree Mackinnons? It is a -most unfortunate thing that Malcolm resigned his -commission just when he did. Of course, it was on his -father's account. The best thing he could do would be -to try and get back to the Army. I haven't approached -him on the subject--that is, closely. He seems -uncommonly touchy about it. So does Isla. But it stands -to reason and common sense that he can't loaf about -Glenogle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I can imagine that would be quite impossible. -But if he does not return to the Army he will probably -seek something else. There is room in the colonies for -such as he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there?" inquired Sir Tom with the doubtful air -of a man who would be difficult to convince. "Well, -they present a problem. She must come back with me -to her aunt in London. I don't see what else is to be -done with her. She can't remain eating her heart out -in that God-forsaken place up at Creagh. I'll never -believe anything but that the change killed my brother -Donald."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead recalled the picture of the General's prostrate -figure on the narrow hearthrug at Creagh, the letter -clasped like a vice in the poor dead fingers, and he had -his own thoughts. Such at least had not been Isla's -opinion, but it was certainly no part of his business to -stir up strife or sow the seeds of suspicion among the -members of the family, who were evidently outside the -real issue of the case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Tom was very friendly and communicative, talking -to the strange American as if he had been at least an -intimate friend of the family--an attitude which was -largely due to what Isla had said about the vacating of -Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just a few of the mourners went back to the house -for tea, and perhaps to hear whether there was a will. -But, though Cattanach was present, there was no mention -of a will, and it was speedily whispered about that the -General had left none. It was quite well known that -for five years at least he had not been capable of -transacting business, and, as he had had practically no -money to dispose of, and the estate had to pass in entail -to his only son, a will would have been superfluous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was of Isla that most of them were thinking, -and when they watched the slender, black-robed figure -so quietly dispensing tea in the drawing-room, assisted -by Kitty Drummond, they wondered what her future was -to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil Drummond was there also, and had taken up his -position close to the tea-table, with the result that -Rosmead could not get near for a private word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his mind was made up that he would not leave -Achree until he had seen Isla by herself to bid her good-bye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was in no haste--he never was in any of the affairs -of life--having proved that most things come to the man -who bides his time. But perhaps just there he made -one mistake, arising from ignorance of the quick Celtic -temperament, which cannot brook slowness or delay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's eyes met his just once across the room, and -there was quite clearly a message for him in the look. -It bade him wait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When all the tea had been served, and she had -answered as composedly as she could the remarks made -to her by Neil, she rose and quite deliberately walked -across the room to the place where Rosmead stood -talking to her Uncle Tom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have a long way to go back to Glasgow, Mr. Rosmead. -Are you in haste to leave us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in haste to leave you, but I must be going soon. -Can I speak with you for a few minutes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is why I have come. Will you come down -to the library?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Neil Drummond, with eyes that had something -of the baleful glow of the watch-fires in them, had the -chagrin of beholding them leave the room together, as if -it were quite a matter of course.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don t you think that American bounder has presumed -a lot to-day, Malcolm?" he said gruffly to Mackinnon, -who happened to pass near him at the moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm looked the surprise he felt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think so, Neil. He has been most awfully -kind, don't you know? I dare say Isla has some message -for his mother about when they can come back to the -house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil tried to accept this perfectly feasible explanation, -but if he had seen the two talking earnestly together at -the library window his mind would undoubtedly have -been most seriously disturbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was so very kind of you to come to-day and take -all the trouble for us," said Isla, as the door closed upon -them. "Do you still intend to sail away on Thursday?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On Friday. My boat sails from Liverpool," he corrected -gently. "I go to London on Thursday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when will you come back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not before Christmas, I am afraid. I've had more -than six months' furlough already, you see, and I haven't -the ghost of an excuse for stopping on this side any -longer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Except your mother. You will not like leaving her, -I am sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't. But she is accustomed to my journeyings -to and fro in the earth and up and down in it. I shall -be very happy, thinking of her here in this house. She -has never felt so much at home since she left Virginia. -I have had a talk with your brother, and it is practically -settled that we take a two years' lease of Achree. I was -fortunate in finding Cattanach here to-day also, and so -the thing can be put on a proper basis without delay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Isla, and her tone had a singularly spiritless -note in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked steadily into her face, wondering just how -much he might say, or whether he might say anything -at all. But she was not looking at him. She was thinking -how strange it would be to realize that this man had -gone away clean out of the Glen, and that soon the ocean -would roll between him and her. She had never felt so -in her life about any human being outside of her family -circle, and she was disturbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope that you will not think I presume if I ask -what is going to become of you in the immediate future," -said Rosmead presently. "Will you go back to London -with your uncle, as he seems to expect?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I shall simply go back to Creagh," she answered -steadily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead was silent for a moment, trying to picture -the life she would lead there, alone and without occupation, -in the company of her brother from whom her heart -was estranged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Creagh? It seems impossible! I can't bear to -think of you there. It is unthinkable!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no--nothing is unthinkable, or even impossible. -People can do anything in this world--anything," she -answered. "I have proved it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, shall I find you at Creagh when I come back?" -he asked with an odd persistence, his eyes cleaving to -her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A tremor ran over it, and had he but known it the -opportunity was his. Her heart turned--nay, cried out -to him. Had he spoken the word then she would have -gone away with him without a question or a doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he blundered on, longing for her mightily, yet -wholly afraid, believing that he dared not begin to woo -her until he had given her heart time to recover from its -present shock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some one tapped lightly at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is au revoir, then, not good-bye," he said with an -effort, and held out his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave hers to his warm, kindly clasp, and her eyes, -over which the veil had already fallen, uplifted -themselves to his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope it is, but six months is a long time in life. -So many things can happen. I hope you will have a safe -journey and a successful issue to all your affairs, -and--and that the difficulties you spoke of will all be swept -from your path."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some of them are big enough. But when I come -back I will address myself to the biggest undertaking of -my life, and the dearest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door was opened, and Malcolm's voice announced -that the motor was waiting outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead raised her hand to his lips and turned away, -scarcely master of himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla spoke no more. But, for once in his life, Peter -Rosmead had erred on the side of caution. The -incomparable chance had been his, and he had passed it by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the door had closed upon them Isla leaned her -head against the black oak of the window shutters, and -a little sobbing breath that was almost a cry, broke from -her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her last prop had gone, but none knew--least of all -the man whose one desire on earth was to take her to his -heart.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="family-counsels"><span class="large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">FAMILY COUNSELS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"And now," said Sir Tom with a large and partially -reproachful cheerfulness, "we had better address ourselves -to the future of you two children and try to find out just -where we are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was neither unfeeling nor unsympathetic, but his -opinion was that grief and the lassitude which treads -close upon it should in due season have an end. The -affairs of life cannot stand still, even when death -intervenes. They can only be held in abeyance for a little -space.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now that Mackinnon, full of years and honour and -followed by the lamentations and the love of all his -people, rich and poor, had been carried to his last rest, -he must become a tender memory to those who were left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had dined together quite alone, and now they sat -in the library, where pipe and tobacco and cigars were -on the table, as yet, however, untouched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Tom was getting his pipe ready a trifle absently, -his eyes fixed on his niece's face. He was troubled about -her. Her white face and her deep, grief-haunted eyes, -which no man could fathom, disconcerted and disturbed -him. He loved her dearly, but he did not always -understand her. Malcolm's apparently simpler nature was -better within his grasp and ken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was assuredly Malcolm's place, as the head of the -house, to make some suggestion or statement, but silence -lay upon him heavily, and he seemed ill at ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has neither of you anything to say? I must be -going back to London to-morrow, if I have to go alone. -I'll wait till Wednesday, if I am to take Isla. What do -you say, my dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, a slim, black figure with white, nervous hands -interlaced upon her lap, lifted her eyes to his face from -where she sat at the other side of the fireplace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you, Uncle Tom, I will not go to London -just now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, my dear, your aunt will scold me no end if I -don't bring you. Her last words were that I was to -bring you back with me. If she had been well enough -nothing would have kept her from Achree just now--and -you know it. But I left her in bed, and the doctor -forbade the journey. It is nothing serious, only requiring -a little care. Fact is, these monkeys have been running -her off her feet lately. Three or four o'clock every -morning before she got to her bed after their dancing -and nonsense. The life of a chaperon in the London -season is not a happy one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give Aunt Jean my love, and tell her I can't come -just now. Later, perhaps----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Later! Heaven only knows where we may be later. -Your aunt talks of some seaside place on the Brittany or -Normandy coast--some God-forsaken hole, where a man -can't get a decent meal of meat. Gad, what it is to be -hard-up! Well, and if you won't come to us may I ask -without impertinence where you do propose to go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back to the Lodge at Creagh for a few days at least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And after the few days--eh, what?" asked Sir Tom, -leaning forward a little, with serious concern in his big, -kindly, rather innocent blue eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made no answer, though Malcolm from where he -stood leaning against the fireplace seemed to wait a little -eagerly for what she might say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak to her, Malcolm! She has aye been a high-handed -miss, doing that which seemed right in her own -eyes. You are the head of the house now. Can't you -put your foot down and bid her come with me to your -aunt and your cousins? It's where she ought to be in -these days, among a lot of kindly, busy women-folk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's what I think, Uncle Tom," said Malcolm in a low -voice. "But, as you say, nobody can dictate to Isla. -She will go her own way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, may I ask what you propose to do?" asked -Uncle Tom, suddenly directing his attention to his -nephew. "Of course, for a few days or weeks there will -be things to see to. But, with Cattanach at your back, -they should not take very long to wind up. And with -the American folk coming back to Achree there's nothing -for you to do here. I don't suppose you'll be long -content, hanging about the Lodge and the Moor of Creagh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm had no answer for a moment, and the silence -seemed to grow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why can't you speak--one of you?" asked Uncle -Tom a trifle testily. "I like folks to show some -common-sense, and you have both seen this coming for long -enough. It's not to be thought that you haven't had -plans for the future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't any plans," Malcolm admitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This answer incensed the old man extremely. He -looked at the strong, well-knit figure of his nephew in -the full prime and strength of his young manhood with -critical displeasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the sooner you get some, my man, the better it -will be for you. It is a thousand pities that you resigned -your commission when you did, and since it is somebody -to make a proposition that you seem to need, mine is -that you apply to the proper authorities and get back to -the army as soon as possible. It's undoubtedly the very -best thing you can do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The silence deepened. It was broken by the falling of -a glowing log from the bars to the hearth, and, under -pretence of restoring it to the grate, Isla moved and bent -towards it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never approved of what you did," went on Sir Tom, -"and if anybody's advice had been asked it would never -have been permitted. I don't like back-draughts, but I -can't help saying now, as we're discussing family business, -that I'm sure that your father would have been the very -last man to have sanctioned your sending in your papers--that -is to say, if he'd been in his full mind and faculties. -And I think that the best tribute of respect you can show -to his memory is to get back to the army as soon as -possible and try to follow in the steps of the finest fellow -and the bravest soldier that ever earned a sword."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a long speech for Sir Tom to make, and at the -end he cleared his throat and dashed something from -his eyes. He was glad to have got this off his chest--as -he might have expressed it. It had lain heavily there -for some time; in fact, ever since he had been able to -grasp the full significance of his nephew's action. To -him it seemed disastrous, unnecessary, and foolish in -the extreme. For if a man cannot afford to live on his -estate, or if it does not offer him sufficient occupation, -surely it were infinitely better for him to take up some -honourable calling in which he would have a chance to -rise and to distinguish himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Mackinnons, at least the handful that was left, -had all been proud of the gallant old General, and, now -that it was open to his son to carry on the fine traditions -of the race, it seemed incredible and discreditable that -he should not be willing and eager to do it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't do that, Uncle Tom," said Malcolm, shifting -uneasily from one foot to another. "I've left the army -for good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that's no reason why you shouldn't go back. If -representations to the proper quarter were made, I can't -see any insuperable obstacles in the way. Can you, Isla?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made no answer, and he went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll do what I can. I'll go to the Commander-in-Chief -myself, if you're such a baby over it, Malcolm, and -lay the whole facts of the case before him. No reasonable -man would refuse to make an open door somewhere -for you, and I don't believe he would--eh, Malcolm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't go back, Uncle Tom. Please, say no more -about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to hear a word from Isla on the subject," -said Uncle Tom. "I can't make you out, lassie. I -have never thought of you as a person without opinions. -You have an opinion about this, of course, and a pretty -strong one, I could take my affidavit. Let us hear it. -Now's the time, for if you won't travel with me to London, -I must go south to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a matter for Malcolm entirely, Uncle Tom," she -said, rising with a sudden sweep to her feet. "Do you -mind if I say good-night? I am very tired, and last -night I had no sleep. I'll be up bright and early for -you to-morrow morning, though, of course, it will only be -the two o'clock train you want to catch at Stirling. It -will set you down in London before eleven."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That will do. You're in a hurry, however--and my -last night, too! But certainly you look tired, lass," said -the old man, and he kissed her with a very real tenderness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded to Malcolm, said good-night briefly, and -went to the door, which her uncle opened for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had closed it he turned full face to Malcolm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's something the matter with the bairn, -Malcolm. What is there between her and you? Have -you quarrelled about anything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing special--only we don't hit it off, Uncle -Tom," said Malcolm, turning round with evident relief -and reaching for the cigars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the sooner you begin to hit it off the better," -said Sir Tom severely. "It's not decent to behave as -you are doing. How do you propose to live together -in the Lodge of Creagh, even for a little while, if you -feel like that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it up!" said Malcolm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was as if his whole body and spirit had relaxed -now that some strain was removed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a dryness between us about the letting of -Achree," resumed Malcolm, seeing that the old man -was still staring intently at him, as if waiting to be -enlightened. "Of course, I didn't like it. After all, it -was my business, wasn't it, Uncle Tom? And Isla took -it all upon herself. See how it has complicated things -just now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but the American money is very good," said -Uncle Tom drily. "Barras would be a howling -wilderness without it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daresay that Isla and I would have pulled through -without it, and I could have occupied myself in looking -after the place. It wants a lot of pulling together, -Uncle Tom. Everything is slack, and the tenants don't -pay what they might--not one of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't take the breeks off a Hielandman, lad," -was the dry response. "But it's about Isla I'm chiefly -concerned. You can very well fend for yourself. You'll -have to make proper provision for her, Malcolm. Whoever -suffers, she must have enough to live upon. She -isn't one who requires much, but providing for her must -be your first duty. I don't doubt that you will do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll do the fair thing, of course. We'll have to have -a talk, I suppose. I do wish she would go with you to -London, if it were only for a few days. I could come -to fetch her later. It would clear the air."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She won't--you can see that in the eyes of her. -There's something back of it all--God knows what--and -I suppose you'll have to fight it out your two selves. -But you'll be very gentle with her, Malcolm, for to-night -she looks the most forlorn creature on the face of God's -earth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He blew his nose as he said this, and he begged -Malcolm to bring him a peg of whisky. They waxed -more confidential over their drink, of which, however, -Malcolm partook very abstemiously. Drink had never -been his besetting sin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About eleven Sir Tom went off to bed, a little reassured -concerning the affairs of the Achree Mackinnons -and having no doubt whatever but that Malcolm would -do his duty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm certainly at this moment wished to do it, if -only he knew how. He didn't want to leave Glenogle, -still less did he want to live under one roof with his -sister. If she refused to leave the Glen he would have -no alternative but to go, and what would be the upshot -of it all?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Near to midnight he was still pondering this mighty -and seemingly insoluble problem when the library door -was silently pushed open and Isla in a white -dressing-gown, with her long hair tied lightly back and -hanging loosely on her shoulders, came in. Her face -looked ghastly pale against the whiteness of her wrap, -and her eyes were shining like stars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard Uncle Tom go up to bed, Malcolm, and I -thought I'd better come down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fire has gone low," he said, as he sprang up to -vacate the most comfortable chair. "Here's a log. -We'll get a blaze in a minute. Sit down here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat down on the extreme edge of the chair and -watched him a little wistfully while he attended to the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought, perhaps, we had better have a little talk -about what we are going to do," she said a trifle unsteadily. -"There is nothing but Creagh. The question is--Can -it hold us both?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't speak like that, Isla," he said almost -pleadingly. "But really Uncle Tom's plan is the best, -considering all things. Couldn't you make up your mind -even yet to go to London with him, if it were only for a -few days?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't, Malcolm. Aunt Jean and the girls would -drive me crazy just now. Don't even mention it again. -I--I just want to ask you whether it wouldn't be better -to tell Uncle Tom the truth about how you left the army -before he goes to-morrow? You know how impulsive he -is. He will think nothing of going straight to the War -Office or to the Commander-in-Chief, if he can find him, -the moment he gets back to London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm's face fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, so he might! I never thought of that. -But, hang it all, Isla, I can't tell him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me do it, then. Don't you see anything would -be better in the circumstances than that he should make -a fuss? It would make you look such a fool, and it -would certainly result in newspaper paragraphs which, -through the great kindness of Colonel Martindale, have -never appeared."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll see in the morning. I'll be driving him to the -station. Anyhow, I'll impress on him that the matter -must on no account be opened up again--that nothing -would induce me to go back to the army," said Malcolm, -whose policy all through life had ever been to find the -easiest way out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla dropped the subject. For the first time since her -father's death she had schooled herself to try to speak -of it naturally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you let Achree to the Rosmeads for the longer -term, what are you going to do? It's impossible that -you can live at Creagh for an indefinite time and -without an object."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want a little while in which to look round, Isla. -I must have at least six months to inquire into things. -I'm going up to Glasgow on Monday to go over everything -with Cattanach. I must see whether the profits -of the place cannot be increased in some directions. -I can be busy enough for the next six months at least -in getting the whole thing into shape. After that I -must try to get a berth of some kind. Rosmead was -recommending the Argentine. By the time he comes -back I shall be in a position to go thoroughly into the -prospects there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And in the meantime, then, you will live at Creagh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought of doing so. I am sorry for your sake -that it isn't Achree. But I had no hand in that. You -shut yourself out, so to speak."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leaned her elbow on her knee, dropped her chin, -which had become sadly sharpened of late, on her hand, -and looked across the space of the fireplace at him with -the same wistful expression in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Malcolm, you'll try and pay off that money? When -father was able to understand things it worried him -most frightfully whenever he thought about the -mortgage. For his sake, promise me that you will try to -pay it off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course I will--the whole of the Rosmead -money will go to that," he answered lightly. "It won't -take much to keep me at Creagh--or both of us, for the -matter of that. But, of course, a bachelor establishment -could be run more cheaply."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There couldn't be anything much cheaper than -Creagh with Margaret Maclaren and Diarmid to do the -work," said Isla drily. "But I won't remain long there -to be a burden on you, Malcolm. I must go out and -find something to do for myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nonsense," he said loftily. "The only condition -on which I should let you leave Creagh would be that -you go either to Barras or abroad with them. So don't -let us talk any more about that. And, really, Isla, if -only you'll be a bit reasonable and not too hard on a -fellow, we might have a fairly good time even at Creagh. -The Rosmeads are more than inclined to be kind, and -there isn't any reason why we shouldn't avail ourselves -of what they offer. Then, of course, there are the -Drummonds. What ails Neil at Rosmead? He was -positively savage about him this afternoon when you -went out of the drawing-room with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla did not smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neil is rather silly about some things," she answered, -and there was a vague regret in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not forget that, in a moment of keen loneliness -and desperation, she had told Neil Drummond the -truth about Malcolm's home-coming, and it stood to -reason that Neil would not forget it either.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her one desire was that that shameful truth should -never come to the ears of the Rosmeads. She thought -of them in the plural number, but it was Rosmead -himself she meant. She already knew that his standard was -very high, and that he might harshly judge a man like -Malcolm if he knew him as he really was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sat very still, looking rather intently at the open, -ruddy face with the smiling eyes and the weak, mobile -mouth, and she wondered whether there was any -ultimate hope of his complete redemption. He had -evidently been able to forget or to put behind him entirely -the horror and the tragedy of that frightful day at -Creagh and the word with which her accusing voice had -smitten his ears. His volatile nature took things so -easily and lightly that, in his estimation, practically -nothing but the immediate moment mattered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well perhaps, after all, she told herself, his policy was -best. She had borne the burden and heat of the day, -had lain awake at nights, pondering the problem of -existence, had worn herself to a shadow for the honour of -Achree and of the name she bore, and where was she left?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stranded, she told herself, and practically without a -friend. She had proved to the hilt the truism that the -world has neither time nor room for the long face or the -tale of woe, and that he who smiles, even if his heart be -shallow or false, will win through at least cost--ay, and -will grasp most of the good things of life as he floats -airily by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was fast becoming cynical and inclined to accept -the creed of the fatalist who says "What is to be will be".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, if Uncle Tom leaves to-morrow," she -said as she rose to her feet, "we had better go back to -Creagh on Wednesday. I'd rather be gone before the -Rosmeads come back, and I said Thursday to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do be sociable, Isla! It would only be the kind -thing to stop to welcome them decently and thank them -for what they've done. It's the very least thing we can -do, if you ask me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, whom the Rosmeads had surprised out of her -usual reserve, in the first overwhelming horror of her -grief, felt inclined to creep back into her shell again, -but she saw the reasonableness of her brother's words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, I must leave it to you to arrange, I -suppose. I mustn't forget that you are the head of the -house. I'll be ready to go up to Creagh when you like, -and as long as I remain there I'll try to make you -comfortable and happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She said good-night to him immediately and glided -away. But long after her departure Malcolm sat -pondering on the future, by no means elated at the prospect -of a </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> existence with the sister who knew so -much. He would have been a happier and a more -easy-minded man had Isla been getting ready to accompany -her Uncle Tom to London.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="settling-down"><span class="large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">SETTLING DOWN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Having, in pursuance of a partially concerted plan of -existence, thus held out the olive branch to her brother, -Isla found the rest easy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning the breakfast-table was unclouded, and -Sir Tom departed to London, more comfortable in his -mind about his kinsfolk than at any moment since he -had arrived in the Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad that you have come to some sort of understanding -with your brother, my dear," he said, as Isla -helped him on with his big travelling-coat in the hall, -while Rosmead's horses were waiting at the door. "Just -one thing more. Malcolm can't loaf about here longer -than is necessary. Your duty now, having been so -faithfully ended where your dear father is concerned, is to -put a bit of your own smeddum into your brother. What -I'd like--what we'd all like--is to get him back to his -regiment. It's the only honourable way out of a big -difficulty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla busied herself with smoothing the creases in the -back of the coat and made no answer at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about his Colonel--Martindale, isn't it? Your -aunt is intimate with his sister, Lady Chester. We can -get at him in that way, though I still think that a straight -application from Malcolm couldn't possibly fail of its -purpose. Eh--what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't do anything, Uncle Tom," pleaded Isla, "please, -don't. There are reasons--other reasons--why it would -be better not, and Malcolm is quite determined. Anyone -can see that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well. It doesn't seem the right thing, but I -don't want to be officious, and you at least have shown -yourself capable of managing your own affairs up to now. -Take Malcolm in hand now. The best of us need the -mothering that a good woman can give. But I hope, my -dear, that my next visit to Achree will be a happier -one--namely, to give you away perhaps to some gallant -bridegroom. Eh--what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled his big, enveloping smile as he lifted her -chin in his hand and kissed her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That isn't likely to happen. But thank you all the -same, dear Uncle Tom," said Isla gratefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, if we really are to be buried in the sand dunes -over there and have to subsist on anæmic omelettes and -the everlasting poulet roti, mind you come to us. And -Barras in the winter is a very good place. It had a -Riviera temperature up to March this year. In -November, thank God, we'll make tracks for Barras again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Isla thanked him, and, Malcolm appearing on -the scene, she said no more. But she was sensible of -relief as she saw them drive away. So long as Uncle -Tom remained at Achree anything might happen. His -big, kindly, blundering feet would stray into all sorts of -forbidden paths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spent the morning in the house, going slowly and -with a sort of lingering tenderness over every bit of it. -The smart servants of the Rosmeads had managed to -efface themselves in a very wonderful way, and the -magnificent simplicity of the funeral of Mackinnon had left -its deep impression on their minds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla thanked each one of them individually in that -way of hers that could draw out all that was best in a -human being. She offered nothing, because she had -naught to give, and would not mock them with pretence. -Malcolm, less delicately conscientious, scattered silver -among them--the silver that had come out of Isla's hoard -in the bureau at Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm returned to announce that he had engaged -Jamie Forbes to come up from the hotel to drive them to -Creagh at three o'clock of the afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to go to Darrach first, Malcolm, to see Elspeth -Maclure. Everything is ready to lift, and I shall get up -by tea-time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how will you get up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Walk, of course--that is nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I can make Jamie wait till you are ready. He -can stop here till four, by which time surely you could -be done with that wind-bag, Elspeth Maclure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I shall stop to tea with her and come when I'm -ready, Malcolm. I've neglected her of late, and I have -lots of things to tell her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm gave his shoulders a shrug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never understood your fondness for Elspeth -Maclure, Isla. Her tongue is a yard long and none too -kindly. She was as nearly as possible impertinent to me -one day when I stopped at Darrach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla looked unbelieving and wholly unconvinced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't conceive of Elspeth being impertinent. You -must have said something to offend her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I gave her the truth about Donald and the croft, if -you like. Darrach is a bit of the best land on Achree, -and if it were joined to Tully and let to a responsible and -capable man it would bring in a good rent. Maclure's -lazy, and greedy besides. I'd like to chuck him from -Darrach, and I mean to tell Cattanach that when I go up -to Glasgow to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla said nothing, though she thought much. The -Maclures had been in Darrach in direct descent for four -generations, and Donald naturally regarded the place as -his own. To turn him out and join up the crofts into -bigger holdings would revolutionize the whole life of the -glens and take the bread out of many mouths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this was not the time to argue that question. -Above all things, she must try to live at peace with -Malcolm, and find some quiet, persuasive method of -getting him to let well alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was a curious mixture. Her temperament was -active, her judgment quick and shrewd, but she was -bound by the immemorial traditions of her race and -ought to have been born in feudal times. She looked -upon all the tenants of Achree as the children of the -estate, having as good a right to the land as the -Mackinnons themselves. The fact that they paid small, in -some cases inadequate, rents for their holdings, thereby -keeping the coffers of Achree sadly empty, altered -nothing. She would rather have starved herself--and -that cheerfully--than ask them for more. Besides, she -knew the hunger of the land, the late and scanty -harvests, the long winters, and the difficulty of wresting -a living from the bare hill-sides and the swampy breadths -that lay to the Loch-side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew it to the uttermost. She had seen the -blackened stocks sodden with November rains and -touched with December snows to such an extent that -the corn was hardly worth the trouble of carrying to the -barn. She had felt the dank smell of the potatoes rotting -with disease in the furrows when the autumn was wet, -and she knew the poverty of the homes where she was -ever a welcome, and never an intruding, guest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm knew none of these things. He had no -practical acquaintance with the long fight between man -and nature in these high latitudes, and he had exaggerated -ideas of the profits of farming. Already he was full -of ill-considered and half-digested plans for the entire -regeneration of Achree. Now that all was over, he was -making all the haste he could to let bygones be bygones. -He was going to begin afresh a new life, which, he -promised himself, might be as interesting and far less -strenuous than the old.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father's death had altered the whole situation, and, -from his point of view, had occurred at the psychological -moment. Now, as Laird of Achree and head of his clan, -he occupied a very different niche in the scheme of -things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla left Achree for the second time without any bitter -pang. Nay, it pleased and comforted her to think that -Peter Rosmead and his folk had it for a home. That -thought somehow seemed to bring him nearer to her. -In the months to come it would lessen the breadth and -depth of that vast dividing sea. Yet how she would -have been startled had her own thoughts been mirrored -before her, who had never before taken such interest -in a man!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thought of him as she walked down the dry, crisp -road to Darrach, and she wondered where he would be -at that moment and whether the telegram she had -dispatched to them at the St. Enoch's Hotel, announcing -their departure to Creagh, would bring him back to -Glenogle before he finally set out on his long journey. -She did not admit even to herself her secret hope that -he would, but it was of him she thought as she -approached Elspeth's hospitable gate, of his deep and -encompassing tenderness, his continuous thought for her, -his earnest eyes looking into hers and assuring her of -his devotion to her cause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lingered on these thoughts, fully conscious of -their comforting sweetness and wholly unaware that -they heralded the dawn of love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found Elspeth working at her baking board with -a downcast face. The baby was asleep in the box-bed -by the side of the fire-place, and the rest of the children -were at school, even little Colin, aged three and a half, -having been admitted to the infant room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There you are at last, Miss Isla--a sicht for sair een. -I said to Donald this morning that if it should be that -you didna come the day, then I must go and seek for ye -either at Achree or at Creagh. Where should I have -found you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are leaving Achree to-day, and it is at Creagh -that you will find me, Elspeth," said Isla as she took the -chair that Elspeth set for her by the well-scrubbed table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've come for my tea, Elspeth, and these scones -smell as they ought. If the butter is newly churned, -too, then I am in luck, and I will forget all about the -rich meats that the American cook has been setting -before us at Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it wass the right thing for you to be there, Miss -Isla, and it was fery, fery good of the folk. From end to -end of the Glen you'll hear nothing but praise of them -for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was good," said Isla with quiet conviction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And they'll be stoppin' on, at least for a while, at -Achree, I hope?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, they will be stopping on indefinitely at Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The little one--her they call Miss Sadie--comes here -a lot, Miss Isla, and she hass the pairns quite crazy about -her. The other day--it wass the day before the Laird -died--she wass here drilling them in the yard. It was -the funniest thing you ever saw in your life--and her so -sweet and winsome wi' them! There be some that are -all for the other one, but she seems high and proud-like -and hass little to say to the folk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has had a lot of trouble, Elspeth. Yes--I would -like my tea now, and you to sit down and drink it with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Isla. And so you're to be at Creagh, and -Mr. Malcolm--I beg hiss pardon, the Laird--is to pe -there, too, and to pe fery busy in all the glens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dry note in Elspeth's voice did not escape Isla's ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He iss not going back to the army, Donald says, but -means to live on the place. And, oh, it will nefer pe the -same again! He wass here wan day, and he said a lot -of things that I'm not mindin' to say over again to you. -But iss it true that he will take away most of the crofts -and make big farms and let them to men from the west -country and the Lowlands that haf money in their -pockets and will pey what we canna?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My brother talks a good deal, but when he has been -at home a little longer and gets to understand things -better he will change his mind about a lot of them," -said Isla, trying to comfort Elspeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look you, Miss Isla, if it should come that my man -had to leave Darrach he will nefer lift up hiss head -again. He was born in that bed, and his faither and -his grandfaither pefore him, and he wants to dee in it, -as they did. That is how Donald is feelin' about the -place, Miss Isla, and it iss what the Laird will nefer -understand. But I said that you would understand and -would speak for us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was silent, for she could find no words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Donald bein' a silent, quate man, things eat -intil him, and he will pe wanderin' for efer and efer by -hisself, thinkin' on nothing else. But how to pey more -rent for the place is peyond him and me baith. We -haf nefer a penny over--we just manage to live and to -pey oor way. Mr. Malcolm, he talked a lot about breeding -stock and such like, but where iss the money to come -from to buy the stock at the beginnin'? They haf to be -calves and lambs afore they grow to be bullocks and -sheep. And that's how it iss wi' us here at Darrach, and -we are feart for the day that will come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She set the cups down on the table with a kind of -mournful clatter and brought out the plate of oatcakes -and the delicious scones and the cheese kebbuck and -then the firm golden butter-pat from the little dairy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will never leave Darrach while I live and can -prevent it, Elspeth," said Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she meant what she said. As she walked up the -road again and plunged into the bridle path that would -bring her by the short cut to the Moor of Creagh she -foresaw that her work was by no means done nor yet -the fight ended. For if these were the lines Malcolm -intended to pursue with Glenogle folks, then how could -she live at peace with him? There was bound to be -strife in the Lodge of Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt a little glow of home-like feeling when the -small, ugly, square house, with its smoke curling up, -straight and lazy, to the summer sky, came within range -of her vision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret Maclaren, with temper considerably ruffled -by certain happenings that day, was busy clearing up -what she called a "clamjamphrey" in one of the upper -rooms when she saw her mistress coming slantwise across -the Moor. It was now five o'clock, and she immediately -ran down to see whether the kettle was boiling, in case -Miss Isla wanted tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret had not been down the Glen at all during -these last days and had not so much as seen the funeral -of the Laird--in itself a serious omission. Then that -day she had had a quarrel with Diarmid anent certain -household arrangements which they had not been able -to adjust to her satisfaction and which were waiting the -judgment of Miss Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid, a little puffed up perhaps with the attention -he had received at Achree and the deference the -American servants had paid him, had been a little -high-handed with Margaret on his return. Hence the -explosion on her part.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The truth was that both were too strong-minded and -quick tempered, and that both wished to assert their -authority, and it was hopeless to think that they would -ever get on together at Achree, where most of the -servants had been younger than Diarmid, who had -lorded it over them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Margaret held him again, as she expressed it, and -they had been almost continuously at loggerheads since -he had come to Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Margaret saw him waiting at the door to receive -his mistress she cast her head in the air and went by -him with a small snort that spoke volumes. Isla just -saw her disappear through the little doorway at the end -of the short passage, and, in answer to Diarmid's anxious -query whether she wanted any tea, she simply said -"No," and asked where her brother was. But Diarmid -could not tell her more than the brief fact that he had -gone out after tea without saying where he was going.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, with an odd sense of strangeness and detachment -from the interior of the house, climbed the stairs and, -as she reached the door of her own room, she heard a -heavier foot behind her and beheld Margaret, who was -of a substantial build, puffing on the uppermost steps of -the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Margaret?" she said kindly. "We've come -back you see, and have to begin again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Miss Isla. Please, can I speak to you for a -minute or so? There's things in this house that must -be sorted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorted" was a great word with Margaret. She -sorted everything from the fire to the hens that she -chased out of the little garden or the keeper's boys whom -she hounded back to the Moor. Her temper was quick -and her tongue not very reserved, but her heart was of -gold towards the house she served.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, surely. Come into my room. What's the -matter with you? You look angry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope it's a righteous anger, Miss Isla. All I want -to ken iss--What are the duties of Diarmid an' what are -mine in this hoose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me, Margaret, what a fuss! Whatever do you -mean? Your duties are just what they have always -been. I've never been asked the question before. How -has it arisen now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's that Diarmid. He thinks himsel' as fine as the -Laird himsel'. Just come here a minute, Miss Isla, will -you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla followed her wonderingly across the narrow -landing to the door of the room in which her father had -slept in his lifetime. It was the best room in the -house, and Margaret, in no doubt that the new Laird -would occupy it on his return, had swept and garnished -it. But he had refused point-blank, and all his things -lay scattered now upon the floor and on the bed, and -the drawers were open, giving the room a most untidy -aspect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here haf I toiled an' slaved to get the place ready, -an' then Maister Malcolm, he will not sleep in it, he -says."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Mr. Malcolm must please himself, Margaret," -said Isla rather quickly. "It does not in the least -concern you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not sayin' that it does. But what I do want to -know, Miss Isla, iss if I'm to wait on him as well as to -do the cookin' an' look after the whole house. I brought -down all Maister Malcolm's things from the attic an' -put them in the drawers; an' all the General's things -are in the big kists up the stairs. Then, when Maister -Malcolm came in he fell into the most fearful rage an' -swore like anything an' turned the drawers out on the -floor an' roared to me to put them all back up the stairs -again. An' what I want to know iss whether it iss my -duty or Diarmid's to do that. I haf nefer been in a -hoose where the man-servant did not wait upon the -master; forby, I haf not time, and, unless you pid me, -I will not lift the things up the stairs again. It is -Diarmid that should pe doin' it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely Diarmid will do it. Where is he? Tell him -to come up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a minute, Miss Isla. But what I do want to -know iss how it iss to be in Creagh now? For if Diarmid -iss to stop, then I canna. I'm not fit to stand his impidence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The idea of Diarmid's impudence so tickled Isla that -she burst out laughing, which did not please Margaret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it's me you're laughin' at, Miss Isla," she began in -a highly-offended tone----</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Isla turned about on her with a quick glance -of disapproval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that a way, Margaret Maclaren, to speak to me this -day of all days? If you and Diarmid cannot live -peaceably together, then you had better both go. You are a -silly woman. What does it matter who puts away -Mr. Malcolm's things? Go away to your kitchen, and I'll -do it myself. You ought to be ashamed of yourself at -your age, behaving like a great baby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret did not take the rebuke in very good part. -Old and faithful, she was likewise privileged; and -undoubtedly all the Mackinnon servants had been more -or less spoiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the swearin', Miss Isla. I haf not been used to -it, an' I will not stand it--not even from Maister -Malcolm, an' Diarmid laughin' in the back, like, when -I wass ordered to put away the things. Please to tell -me who iss to wait on the Laird--iss it to be me or iss -it to be Diarmid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, supposing it should be you, eh, Margaret?" -asked Isla, and the smile did not leave her lips. "Go -away down and see what there is in the larder, for we -shall need something to eat a little later. And then -come up and help me to clear this room. If -Mr. Malcolm does not want it I'll take it myself, for it would -be a shame to let it stand empty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret, a little ashamed perhaps and glad of the -offered opportunity to recover herself, went out of the -room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The smile still lingering on her lips, Isla began to -look over the things which had been brought down from -the attic room. The squabble between Margaret and -Diarmid was quite a timely diversion, for it had taken -the edge off what might otherwise have been a painful -moment, and she thought how like children the two -were in their slight knowledge of real care.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pondering thus, she pulled open the upper drawers of -the tallboys that stood between the windows, and she -saw that they were full of small stuff belonging to -Malcolm--papers and photographs and books and toilet -articles mingled in inextricable confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret had certainly carried the things down, but -she had not made the smallest attempt at putting them -in order. Isla took out an armful and carried them to -the bed, thinking that when Margaret returned the -simplest way would be to get her to bring a couple of -trays, on which the small things could be laid, ready for -carrying up the attic stair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she let a little heap fall loosely on the white -coverlet a bundle of photographs fell apart, and one looked -up at her with an insolent, half-defiant stare. She grew -hot all over and then cold, recognizing in the bold, -handsome face that of the woman whom she had seen -Malcolm with in the street off the Edgeware Road. He -had said she was a friend of George Larmer's; if so, why -was her photograph here among Malcolm's most -treasured possessions?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-purple-lady"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE PURPLE LADY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The little menage on the Moor of Creagh was a mistake -from the beginning, and was bound, in the very nature -of things, to have a quick and disastrous end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, it must be at once said, was not altogether the -fault of Malcolm, though Isla thought it was. Her fine -nature had been soured by her experiences, and the hard -side of her developed by the responsibilities which she -had had to shoulder in her young girlhood, when her -heart ought to have been at play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had acquired the habit of legislating for everybody, -and up to a certain point of setting the standard -of conduct. Her conscience she would make the -universal conscience, forgetting that there were degrees -and differences of temperament. By an effort of will -she had held out a sort of grudging olive branch to -Malcolm. But she had done this simply and solely -because she wished to remain in Glenogle and because -there was no place for her except under his roof. The -injustice of it all ate into her heart. Malcolm, who had -done nothing for the Glen, and who, in her estimation, -was totally unfitted to have the destinies of so many in -his keeping, had the whole power in his hands, and none -could say him nay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sudden change in his position had made a great -difference to Malcolm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From being a guest on sufferance, disapproved of by -Isla, who was mistress of the situation, he had stepped -into power, which simply reversed their positions. Isla, -so to speak, was now his guest, and, because there had -been no will and there was nothing except the land to -divide, a pensioner on his bounty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Love would have laughed at the difficulties with which -the situation bristled. But the difficulty of existence in -these circumstances became more acute, and, to Isla, -every day more unbearable. It was not that Malcolm -was rude or actively unkind. Nay, his gay good humour -never failed. But he had no use for her advice and he -absolutely ignored anything she said as to his conduct -of affairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Take the case of the Maclures, for instance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll never put Donald Maclure out of Darrach, -Malcolm," she said one day in the autumn, when -Martinmas was looming in sight. "I met him yesterday, -and he looked like a man under sentence of death. He -had heard that you have been in communication with a -man in Fife about the croft. Is that true?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It might be, and, again, it might not be," he -answered, though there was not a word of truth in the -report yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had thought of it, but it was characteristic of -Malcolm's nature to postpone most of the serious things -of life till a more convenient season. And just then his -energies and his hopes were elsewhere engaged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Malcolm," she said, with a touch of passion, -"it isn't right to treat the folk like that--to torment them -without sense or purpose. They haven't been used -to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No--they've been used to nothing but having their -own way, to paying when they liked and what they -liked," he answered, with a touch of grimness. "But I'm -going to alter all that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were at breakfast at the moment, and she looked -down the narrow table at him with a feeling of strong -disgust. There is no bitterness like the bitterness -between those of one blood who persistently misunderstand -and misjudge each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm Mackinnon was not wholly bad. Nay, at that -very time he was honestly striving to do his duty and to -establish himself in the esteem of those whose esteem -he valued. But among these he did not include his -dependants. Towards them he was a bit of a martinet, -as his mother--a creature from the nether world dressed -in a little brief authority--had been before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla knew nothing about her mother except that she -had been very pretty and that she had died young. Had -she known more she would have understood that alien -and lawless blood run in Malcolm's veins. But the old -General had never spoken of the one irretrievable -mistake of his life--a mistake which had left his heart -seared and made his life desolate in the summer of his -days. Happily perhaps for Isla the brief tragedy had -been enacted in India, and General Mackinnon's wife -had never beheld the place of her husband's birth and -true affection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure Mr. Cattanach can't approve of your turning -out the folk like that. And what will a few shillings -or pounds a year more do for you? It will make so -little difference that, looking at it even from the sordid -standpoint, it isn't worth while."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla spoke thus because she was intensely of opinion -that Malcolm had no feelings, and that this was the -only appeal that would strike home. He, knowing -perfectly well how she regarded him, was pleased to -play upon her erroneous conceptions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's worth while, my dear," he said, with his ready -and, to her, most aggravating smile, "because these -Highland folk want waking up. They are like the -Irish--lazy, easy-going, and without independence. You -should hear George Larmer on the state of things on his -Wicklow place. He says it is due partly to the rain and -partly to the whisky, but there is not a man of them -who will do a decent day's work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We get rain enough here," said Isla with a sigh, for -it had been a very wet summer, and the poor harvest -was to be very late. "But our people don't drink -whisky. Even Donald is a teetotaller and wears a blue -ribbon in his buttonhole."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which that shrew of his pinned on, doubtless. -Poor devil!--I'm sorry for Donald if that's the set of it, -and I'll stand him a drink next time I meet him at a -handy place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, what are you going to do about the Maclures? -I wish you would be serious for just a minute, Malcolm. -I really want to know what's in store for them. I am -almost afraid to go past the door of Darrach now or to -meet Eppie. She's wearing herself to a shadow over it -all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There you are, Isla--you've ruined them, neck and -crop, by listening to their grumblings and pandering to -their lack of independence! Nobody knows just how -much money there is in Glenogle--or in any of the -glens, for that matter. It strikes me there are a good -many fat stocking-feet hidden among the thatch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nonsense, Malcolm! Nobody does that now. -They all use the bank when they have anything to put -away, but I don't think that is often the case."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He cut the top neatly off his third egg and proceeded -to enjoy it. Malcolm had a healthy appetite, and -Margaret Maclaren, still more or less in a state of grumbling -rebellion, said that he was hard to fill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Isla, I wish you would take a sensible -view of things and leave me to manage my own business. -You won't deny that the management is mine now, I -suppose? Unfortunately for me, you've been Laird of -Achree for the last five or six years, and you're difficult -to follow. It's just like what happens in a regiment -when an easy Colonel is followed by a smart one. Every -unit in it jibs, but they all come into line a little later. -And that's what the tenants--my tenants--are going to -do if you'll let them alone. But you must let them alone, -do you understand? I am sick of all this wrangling, and -I won't listen to you any more. It isn't decent for you -to act as go-between among the tenants. If they have -a grievance let them come to me. Next time you see -the Maclures you can tell them it will pay them to -address themselves to me instead of putting up a poor -face to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's colour rose, for both the words and the manner -of them were offensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be better for yourself, too," he added in a -gentler tone. "I don't suppose you ever look at -yourself in the glass. You've gone off most frightfully of -late. It's the worry and the bearing of loads for other -folk that they are perfectly able to bear themselves that -are to blame for that. Take me, for instance. You'd -like to melt me down and drop me into your own mould. -But, my dear, it can't be done. Leave me to go my own -way. Maybe it's a blundering bad way, but at least give -me credit for trying to make the best of things. Once -for all, I won't be dictated to or legislated for. There -isn't in the whole world a more difficult or impossible -person to live with than the woman who wants to run a -universal conscience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was just sufficient truth in the words to make -their sting doubly telling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that is how you feel about me, Malcolm," she said, -rising stiffly, "then the sooner I leave Creagh the better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A visit to the Barras Mackinnons would do you a -power of good, I admit, and would give me time to look -round and get my bearings," he said frankly. "The -quarters are a bit close here, you know, for us in our -present state. Why not go to Wimereaux to them? -The sea air would do you good, and they've asked you -often enough, in all conscience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rolled up her napkin and pushed it all awry into -the ring with the Mackinnon crest on it, and her -downcast eyes were full of strange fires.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to be unjust or hard. Heaven knows -I don't, but you won't do anything," continued Malcolm. -"At Achree they're always asking why you don't come -down, and I must say I think that, after all their -kindness, you've treated them shabbily."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You go so much," she said sullenly. "We can't both -live on the American bounty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a speech wholly unworthy of Isla and unjust to -the Rosmeads. But it was prompted by jealousy alone -and by the distorted view of things prevailing in the mind -of the lonely girl whom nobody now seemed to want.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her only faithful henchman was Neil Drummond, but -on the last occasion on which he had come with words -of healing and sympathy on his lips she had sent him -away, telling him she would not see him again unless -he promised to talk of ordinary things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got into a beastly habit of nagging when -you're not curled right up in a hard shell which nobody -can open," said Malcolm, enjoying his opportunity now -that candour was the order of the day. "You've choked -off nearly everybody, and it's your own fault. I find -folk very pleasant because I let them alone. I'm not -for ever telling them to do this or that. I've enough to -do to look after myself. I know you think me a -rotter--and all that. But you might do worse than take a -leaf out of my book. I've been out in the world, and -I've learned two things--that it's ready to laugh with -you, but that the moment you show the other side of -your face it is bored to extinction. Your long face bores -folk, Isla. Nobody has ever told you the truth about -yourself before. You've arrogated the rôle of -truth-teller to yourself, but that's it----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla walked out of the room with her head held high -in air and fire burning fiercely in her eyes. She was so -angry that she dared not trust her voice. Now she -knew exactly what position she occupied at Creagh--that -Malcolm regarded her as an encumbrance and a -nuisance, and that she dwelt there merely on sufferance -and during his good pleasure. Well, such a situation -being intolerable to a woman of spirit, it must be ended, -and that without delay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ascended the stairs to her own room, and when -she was intercepted by Margaret Maclaren with some -inquiry about the meals for the day, she simply told her -to get what she liked, and passed on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Margaret, no stranger to wrangling, having had a bout -of it that very morning with her arch-enemy Diarmid, -understood that there had been a small storm raging in -the dining-room, and discreetly retired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>New, strange, dreadful elements had crept into the -quiet life on Creagh Moor, and all its sweet harmony -was destroyed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla shut the door of her own room, and dropped for a -moment into her chair, wringing her hands the while -with a sense of utter helplessness. She was at the end -of her tether. Nobody wanted her, and the time had -come for her to go away. Not a soul in the Glen, she -told herself bitterly, would lament her going. She had -dropped into obscurity, and even if she were never to -come back any more to Glenogle, how many would -mourn her absence or long for her return?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The impulse to go there and then was strong upon -her. She even opened the door of her wardrobe and -her drawers to take a brief inventory of her belongings -and consider what she would take away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If only she could walk out as she was! But travel, -even of the simplest sort, is hampered by the multitude -of our needs, by the things which complicate life. Then -she looked at her little store of money, counting it out -with careful fingers. Eighteen pounds in gold and two -handfuls of silver--well, that would keep her until she -could earn more for herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a forlorn creature, without plan or compass, -proposing to let herself drift upon an unknown sea. She -had not the smallest intention of going to the Barras -Mackinnons at Wimereaux. She must get away quite -alone, where she could realize herself, and arrive at -some conclusion regarding her ultimate fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the open window she heard Malcolm go off -with the dogs, whistling as if he had not a care in the -world. The things which daunted her and lay like a -nightmare on her white, sensitive soul, had no power -over him. Frankly selfish, he lived from day to day, -extracting the honey from the hours, and stoically -enduring what he could not evade. Perhaps, she said to -herself, his was no bad philosophy. She wished somebody -had taught it to her sooner; now it was a difficult -lesson, baffling her intelligence at every point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By and by she grew calmer, and her distracted -thoughts began to collect themselves. It was not -possible to run away in a hurry without telling any one, -and her orderly mind shrank from taking such a foolish -and unnecessary step. No--whatever she did, she -would not forget herself or the dignity of the Mackinnons. -She would put no occasion for talk into people's mouths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an hour's time she had decided what to do, and, -after making a sort of preliminary division of her -possessions, she dressed herself and went out. Margaret, -having the feeling that Miss Isla wished to be alone, did -not intercept her this time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a fine, clear, hard morning in September, with -a touch of frost in the air after a night's rain. But the -clouds on the far horizon were still watery, and Isla's -keen eyes decided that the deluge had not spent itself. -She would, however, get fair weather as far as Lochearnhead, -which was her present destination, seeing that she -had to give a certain order to Jamie Forbes concerning -the morrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of a set purpose, she kept to the sheep tracks on the -hills, thus avoiding the vicinity of Achree. She had -been there very few times since her father's death, and -as Mrs. Rosmead had had a somewhat serious illness in -the interval, her daughters had been too much engaged -in looking after her to pay distant calls. But Isla knew -that Malcolm was constantly there--if not every day, at -least several times a week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About half a mile beyond Achree gates, on the -Lochearn side of the Glen, she had to come out on the road -again, because the sheep track ended suddenly with -Donald Maclure's pasture. The heavy rains had washed -every superfluous particle of earth from the roads, and -left the gravelled bottom bare, while there were -delicious runnels of water here and there, all making -swiftly for the burn, which was swollen far beyond its -ordinary limits. There had been very little fair weather -in Glenogle or in the valley of the Earn since the -Lammas floods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla paused for a moment on the Darrach Brig to -watch the brown swirl of the water below, which -fascinated her. Her eyes and ears were ever quick and keen -to note every change in the aspect of the landscape, and -she was more weather-wise than most. She had fallen -into a kind of brown study, from which she was awakened -very suddenly by the sound of a voice speaking a few -yards away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a woman's voice, and when Isla swung round -upon her with quickly-uplifted head she saw a lady -on the road dressed in garments such as were not often -seen in Glenogle. She wore a gown which, Isla decided, -was more fitted for an afternoon function than a quiet -country road. It was of a somewhat vivid purple hue, -trimmed profusely about the bodice with string-coloured -lace. The skirt was long, but she had it gathered in her -hand, and held high enough to show the froth of white, -lace-trimmed petticoats and a mauve stocking against -the clear, patent leather of the high-heeled shoes. A -large black hat, surmounted with feathers and swathed -in a veil like a spider's web, through which the vivid -colour of the face appeared somewhat softened, -completed the costume, which was certainly a startling one -in that remote place, though such a common sight in -London streets as to excite no remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla grew hot and cold, and started back with a little -gesture of aversion, for she recognized the woman whose -face she had seen once in the flesh, and once again in a -photograph in her brother's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good day," said the stranger quite pleasantly. "Could -you tell me whether there is a place close by here called -Achree?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pronounced the last word without the guttural, so -that it sounded like Akree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I asked about it at the hotel," the lady continued. -"and they directed me along this road. But it seems a -good bit away. Is it much farther off?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Lodge gates are half a mile farther on," Isla -answered. "Then there is the avenue to the house -and that is rather long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I may as well go on, now I have come so far, but if -I'd known how far off it was I would have hired a trap -of some kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leaned against the parapet of the bridge in a -quite friendly fashion, as if ready to talk; and Isla -hating herself intensely for lingering, yet felt impelled -to do so, and even to put a question to the stranger -concerning her business at Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose that it is the American tenants you have -come to see? They have been in Achree for about six -months now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I don't know that I've come to see anybody -in particular, but I'm interested in the place through -a friend of mine. I didn't know there were Americans -in it. I thought it belonged to a family called -Mackinnon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are the owners, but it is let, as most of the big -places are in these days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see. And where are the Mackinnons? Mr. Mackinnon -chiefly? He is what you call the laird now, -isn't he? I read about his father's death in the -newspapers, and what a fuss they made about it! Is he -here just now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not at Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he lives in this neighbourhood, surely? He -has not left Scotland?" said the stranger with a quick, -apprehensive note in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he lives farther up the Glen--oh, a long way. -You could not possibly walk it," said Isla hastily. "Good -morning. I must go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was ashamed of herself for having lingered to -parley even a moment with this woman, who, she felt -sure, by her coming presaged more dool and woe to -Achree. How she longed to get clean away from the -Glen before the name of Mackinnon was dragged in the -mire! This impossible woman must have a hold of -some kind on Malcolm, else she never would have dared -to come seeking him in his own glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she turned away her soul felt sick within her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry you are not walking my way," said the -stranger easily. "I'll walk on a bit farther and take a -look at the place, now I have come so far. What a -country! Such hills! And how dull you must all find -it! I'm stopping at Strathyre, and when there are not -the hills, there's the water to get on your nerves. I don't -wonder the Scotch are a melancholy people. Ta-ta!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She waved her plump, gloved hand in quite friendly -fashion, and showed her dazzling teeth in a pleasant -smile as she sauntered off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, with her limbs positively trembling beneath her, -hurried over the bridge, and so on to the hotel, where -she merely left a message, ordering the trap to fetch -her and her luggage from Creagh in the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had had various plans when she started out. She -had thought she might possibly hire Jamie Forbes to -take her through Balquhidder to Garrion, or that she -might even on the way home pay a call at Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But after what had just happened, she had only one -desire--to get away out of Glenogle as fast as the fastest -train could take her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="her-true-friends"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">HER TRUE FRIENDS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Fortune did not favour Isla that day. At any rate her -desire for complete isolation was not gratified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she came out of the hotel, after having made her -arrangement for Jamie Forbes to fetch her from Creagh -to Lochearnhead Station in the morning, she encountered -Mrs. Rodney Payne, who hailed her with undisguised -delight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Miss Mackinnon, we really thought we should -never, never see you any more! Why is it that you -have quite deserted Achree?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," answered Isla rather humbly. "It is -a long way, and--and the days go by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it was not kind. And the messages we have -sent by your brother!--has he ever delivered them, I -wonder?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has often said to me that you would like me to -come oftener to Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, and so we would. And what have you to say -for yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla looked at her and smiled. It was impossible not -to smile at the beautiful creature whose charm could -disarm any hostility. Isla was not hostile to Achree. -Only there she must be all or nothing. That was the -truth, scarcely yet admitted to herself. A very woman, -she could brook no rival, and had stayed high and dry -upon the Moor of Creagh, because she would not share -Achree and the Rosmeads with Malcolm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a pig," she said with humility, yet with -conviction--a speech which made Vivien laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since you know yourself best, I will not presume to -contradict you, my dear," she said as she thrust a small -and confidential hand through Isla's arm. "Now I have -you fast I will lead you to confession. What have we -done to offend?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing to offend!" said Isla quickly. "I am not -silly in that way, I hope. But--but----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what? I thought that I had you hard and fast, -that day at Creagh and that, hard to win, Isla Mackinnon, -once won, could be kept. Why have I made such a -disastrous mistake? I ask everybody, I even write to -Peter and ask him, but he answers not. It is all a part -of this mysterious life of the glens and of the Scottish -character, which no man or woman from the outside can -ever hope to get to the bottom of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, come!" said Isla a little shamefacedly, "we are -not so black as all that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Black, but comely! But back to Achree I march -you to-day, at whatever cost. Do you know that my -mother has been five weeks ill in bed and that you have -never once called to ask for her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I have sent messages by Malcolm, and even -written myself once----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not the same," broke in Vivien. "To-day you -shall be taken in sackcloth and ashes to beg -forgiveness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you have already had too much of the Mackinnons. -I would not have you sicken of the name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We should never sicken of you, Isla. It is an -ungracious thing to say, and the words come most -ungraciously from your lips."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Malcolm does come every day, doesn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla turned her quick, penetrating eyes full on Vivien's -glowing face, and she wondered whether the colour -deepened at the question or whether she merely -imagined that it did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has been most kind. He does all sorts of 'cute -things for us. We have scarcely missed Peter since he -went away. You should hear my mother! Your brother -has quite won her heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" said Isla, but her tone was dry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the near distance she saw the figure of the stranger -lady in the purple frock coming towards them, and she -wondered what would happen. Vivien, too, saw it, and -the smile deepened in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who can this extraordinary female be? I met her -as I came down, and she put me through a sort of -catechism about the Glen, with special reference to -Achree and the Mackinnons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I also met her," said Isla, "and she likewise catechized -me. Some chance tourist staying at the Strathyre -Hotel and hard up for something to occupy her time, I -suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It struck me as more than that. And besides, the -season for tourists is past," said Vivien shrewdly. -"What garments! And what lack of fitness! I wonder -now whether she thinks that we are badly dressed and -that she could give us points? She has a complacent -air, which is at once my despair and my envy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla made no response. Again the chill premonition -of coming evil crept about her heart--she felt that the -purple-clad stranger was a menace to Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I wonder whether your brother saw her? I am -sure she would stop him if she met him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Malcolm!--but he is not down the Glen? I thought -he was going to shoot over the Moor this morning. He -certainly said something about it at breakfast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was certainly down the Glen, my dear, for I met -him on his grey cob. But where he is now I don't -know," said Vivien. "It would have interested her, I -am sure, to have had speech with the actual Laird of -Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did she ask you?" asked Isla quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien's colour rose this time without doubt, but she -evaded the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is greatly concerned about the future of Achree, -anyhow, so let us give her a civil good morning as we -pass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We needn't stop--we mustn't stop," said Isla a little -nervously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as the purple figure approached Vivien felt the -arm she touched tremble a little. But the stranger, -who now looked tired and bored, passed them with a -languid bow and then seemed to hasten her steps -towards the hotel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very glad of this chance of going to Achree to -say good-bye," said Isla, "as to-morrow I am going -away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien nodded, as if she had heard a bit of news she -fully expected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Wimereaux--to your aunt and uncle? Your -brother told us about your going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of herself, Isla's face hardened. Malcolm, -then, discussed her with the Rosmeads, had even -planned her going and spoken of her transfer to the -Barras Mackinnons as a settled thing. Yet she had not -once so much as said that she would like to go!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Malcolm tell you that I was going to-morrow?" -she asked in a low voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said it might happen any day," answered Vivien. -"And, though we would have liked to see more of you. -we all understand that a change would be the very best -thing in the world for you. I've even had it in my -mind to propose that you and I should take a little trip -to Paris together next month, and that afterwards you -might have gone back to Wimereaux. I have not been -in Paris since I was a girl at school."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were educated in Paris?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien laughed rather sadly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No--I was what they call finished there," she -answered drearily. "A woman's education is in the -school of life. Mine has been hard enough, heaven -knows! I have always hated Paris since, but still I -should like to go there with you. I still have an -apartment there. If you could let me know about what time -you wish to come back I could join you or we could -meet on the way, or even in Paris itself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The idea pleased Isla. If only there had been no -obstacles in the way!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never been to Paris. I've seen nothing but -Glenogle except--once in a great while--Barras and -London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Barras is lonely, isn't it? But the Ogden Dresslers -liked it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is an island in the Atlantic. But loneliness -belongs not so much to places as to persons. I am never -lonely--in the sense that you mean. But I think I -could be so in a big city."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long are you likely to be at Wimereaux?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. I have to get there first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will Sir Thomas and Lady Mackinnon stop there all -winter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. They will go back to Barras at the end of next -month, I expect. My uncle is counting the days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I don't wonder at that from what your brother -tells me about him! We expected Peter home in -November, but his last letter to mother is not very -reassuring. They are finding the Delaware Bridge more -difficult than they expected. There is something -puzzling about the river-bed. Peter seems to be -working night and day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he will like that. He is never happier than -when fighting obstacles," said Isla with a faint smile of -remembrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is so--at least it used to be so. But we thought -from the letter yesterday that he was getting what we -call plumb-tired of it. He wants to come back to -Scotland--anyone can see that--and, of course, my -mother's illness has made us all anxious. But he -doesn't say a definite word about coming home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was interested in these items of information -concerning Peter Rosmead and his family. She was -naturally sociable. It was only the habit of life forced -upon her by circumstances that had fostered her reserve. -With Vivien Rosmead, as with Peter, she always felt her -heart expand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no reproach in Mrs. Rosmead's eyes as, from -her bed, she extended two warm hands of welcome to the -desolate girl and drew her down towards her for a kiss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, why is it that you have been so long in -coming. Your dear brother has made every excuse for -you, but we wanted you--we wanted you very much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's eyes filled with tears. She told herself that she -had been wise to stop away, seeing that the sight of this -sweet mother of the gentle eyes and heart who, from her -invalid couch, ruled her family with an absolute rule, -was bad for her and filled her with acute unrest, with a -feeling of rebellion against her own motherless state.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I forgot to tell you," said Vivien cheerfully, "that -Sadie has gone to Garrion for the day. She and Kitty -are inseparable. What a dear, bright creature Kitty is! -And Aunt Betty!--oh, Aunt Betty is a type! I live for -the meeting I hope to arrange between her and my -mother, though they will need an interpreter. Her -Scotch is lovely, but unintelligible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the swift pang of jealousy tore at Isla's heart. -While she had been alone at Creagh nobody had been -lonely for her sake. Her point of view was wholly -unreasonable, and it but serves to show how long brooding -on one particular line of thought can distort the mental -vision of the healthiest and sanest person in the world. -It was more than time that Isla left Glenogle--it would -have been disastrous for her to stay much longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She remained to luncheon, and thereafter she sat for -another half hour with Mrs. Rosmead, who, while she -tried to get Isla to talk about herself, incidentally talked -a good deal about her children, especially about Peter, -for whom her heart was crying out. Isla learned more -about Peter Rosmead from that hour's conversation with -his mother than she had yet known, and all that she -learned was to his credit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope, my dear," said Mrs. Rosmead, "that you -will be back at Christmas at least, for it is our hope -that my son may join us then, and we shall keep it as a -family here. Your brother has promised to come to us, -and if you are here, too, then we shall be happy indeed. -It is where you ought to be at Christmas--under your -father's roof-tree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is Malcolm's now," said Isla with an effort. "I -don't know whether I shall have returned by then. I -have no plans. I am a bit of drift-wood on the shore -now, liable to be floated away by the tide, dear -Mrs. Rosmead. But whether I come or whether I don't I -shall think of you, and I shall be glad that you are here -in Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is something the matter with that child, -Vivien," the old lady said to her daughter after Isla had -gone--"something that has taken the heart clean out -of her. It is something more than her father's death. -Let us hope that the change will do her good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Isla was nearing home, having been -convoyed on her walk part of the way by Vivien, who, on -parting, had bidden her a most affectionate farewell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien was distinctly disappointed in Isla Mackinnon--her -persistent coldness had chilled her. She had -proved that Highland hearts can be very warm and -kindly, and she thought that Isla had not met their -advances with corresponding cordiality. But, having -herself suffered, she did not judge any man--much less -any woman. She knew she must leave Isla to realize -herself and to work out her own destiny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was tea-time when Isla got back, and Malcolm was -about the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face was serene and undisturbed. Isla therefore -surmised that he had not encountered the lady of the -purple gown. Should she enlighten him? Was it her -duty to warn him that the woman, with whom he -undoubtedly had some slight acquaintance--even if nothing -more--was in the vicinity making inquiries about him? -Though he had happened to miss her that day, she was -haunting the neighbourhood, and Strathyre was, so to -speak, but a stone's throw from Glenogle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been trysting Jamie Forbes for the morning, -Malcolm," she said quietly. "I'm going with the -nine-thirty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going where?" he asked with a start.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Glasgow, first. I will have just a word with -Mr. Cattanach. Then I will take the two o'clock train."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For London?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded. There was no reason why she should -hide the first step of her journey from him--no reason -at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will you go on to Dieppe by the night boat, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no need for such haste," she answered. -"And I am not a stranger in London. I can find my -way about. I'll stop the night at the Euston Hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you money?" he asked, trying hard to hide -his relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have twenty pounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you are in clover. It is not a dear fare to -Wimereaux, even if you travel first class. And, of -course, it will cost you nothing while you are there. -They seem to be living at heck and manger for next to -nothing, but how Uncle Tom does loathe it! I suppose -you'll come back with them as far as Glasgow when -they come north next month?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose so," she answered listlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no reason why she should either affirm or -deny, because she herself did not know what she might -do. Everything would depend. It might even be on -the knees of the gods that she would drift to Wimereaux -in the end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been to lunch at Achree," she said suddenly. -"I met Miss Rosmead on the road, and she made me go -in. Mrs. Rosmead looks very ill, I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing to what she did look. And they are so -accustomed to snatching her back from the jaws of -death," said Malcolm grimly, "that they are quite -satisfied about her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Isla. "You go there a great deal, -Malcolm. They seem to think you a splendid sort of -fellow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a curious speech and did not sound quite -kindly. Malcolm, however, took it well, though there -was a touch of bitterness in his reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the people's way of looking at it, Isla--they are -lovely people. They bring out all that is best in a chap -and make him hate the worst. I'll tell you what. If I -had been thrown with that sort at one time of my life I -should have been a different man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We did our best," she answered with a wounded air. -"Father and I were as good as we knew how, though, of -course, we could not hope to reach the Rosmead -standard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean that, Isla. Gad, how quick and hard -you are on a fellow! Your tongue's like a two-edged -sword. I only mean that there's a time in a chap's -life--don't you know?--when, if he gets into a good woman's -hands, she shapes him for good. If he gets into the -hands of the other sort, then God help him!--he hasn't -much chance else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fleeting pity crossed Isla's face. It was a passionate -human appeal. She began dimly to glimpse the fact of -the frightful war between good and evil which ravages -the souls of some, making life a battle-ground from the -cradle to the grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put out a timid hand and touched his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry if I have been hard, Malcolm. I--I didn't -understand. But now----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I mean to win Vivien Rosmead when I'm clean -enough to ask her," he answered in a voice that gripped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla remembered the heightened colour in Vivien's -cheek, the tones and terms in which Malcolm was -spoken of at Achree, and she had no doubt of the issue. -But the woman in the purple frock! Something gripped -her by the throat. She did not know what she wished -or hoped for. She did passionately feel, however, that -if Vivien made another venture upon the sea of matrimony -she ought to be very sure of the seaworthiness of -her barque.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose she divorced her husband. Have you -ever heard anything about the story, Malcolm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing. They never speak of it. Why should -they? That sort of thing is best forgotten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will never forget it. I can't forget how she -spoke that day she came to me--the day when father -died. Her eyes are very wide open, Malcolm. She will -take no risks next time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she isn't hard," he said eagerly. "And a woman -who has lived--who has seen life--can make allowances -for a man. It's that I'm building on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla shook her head and rose to her feet with a heavy sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Life is a most frightful tangle, Malcolm. Sometimes -I get so tired of it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We all do, but we've got to make the best of it. You -don't want any money, then," he added cheerfully. -"It's just as well, because I have hardly a red cent to -bless myself with, and I'm counting the days till the -Martinmas audit and till Rosmead sends his cheque. -When I get that I'll send you along something to -Wimereaux."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll write if I need it or want it," she said quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as if in spite of herself, the other matter would -out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Malcolm, did you meet anybody on the road this -morning, either in going or in coming home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I met different folks--Donald Maclure and Long -Sandy and Drummond seeking you. Only he didn't -come up when I told him that I thought you were about -Lochearn. Did you see him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I suppose I was in Achree at the time. This -was a lady--an extraordinary person in a purple frock. -She spoke to me at the Darrach Bridge, and she had -stopped Vivien Rosmead, too, and asked her questions -about Achree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw Malcolm's colour change and his eyes shift.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did she say to you, Isla? I suppose she was -one of these stray visitors at the hotel. Miss Macdougall -has had some queer specimens this summer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She said she was living at Strathyre, and she asked -questions about the Mackinnons and Achree, as if she -knew about them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And did she say where she came from or what she -wanted here?" asked Malcolm, and by this time he had -walked away beyond the range of Isla's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. But I knew, Malcolm," said Isla clearly. "I -don't know whether I ought to tell you, but perhaps it -will be better that you should know. She was the -woman I met you with that day in the Edgeware -Road--the woman you said you were seeking for Captain -Larmer."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="good-bye-to-glenogle"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">GOODBYE TO GLENOGLE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Half an hour later, from the window of the room where -she was doing her packing, Isla saw Malcolm ride out to -the road upon his bicycle. She did not need to watch -the turn he took. She knew just as well as if she had -been told that he was bound for Strathyre. It was -beginning to grow dusk, but the September evenings are -long in Glenogle, and it would be a night of full moon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's thoughts were rather bitter as she made busy -with her scanty wardrobe, laying aside every superfluous -article, because she did not wish her movements to be -hampered with too much baggage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Busy with purely mechanical things as she was, her -thoughts were free to tarry with the affairs of Achree. -Had Malcolm been as other men--had there been no -shadow on his past, no complications in his present, she -could have wished for no better issue out of the tangle -of their troubles than to see him win Vivien Rosmead. -She was a sweet, gracious woman, a true gentlewoman, -beautiful and rich--a combination not easily found in a -wife. How Isla would have rejoiced to see her mistress -of Achree, rearing bonnie children who would have -loved her and called her Auntie Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was what ought to have been, she said with a little -passionate stamp of her foot upon the floor. And now -that Malcolm was in deadly earnest she did not doubt -for a moment that he desired to be worthy for Vivien's -sake, but spectres blocked the way. The most imminent -and the most terrifying was the woman in the purple -frock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could anything on earth ever explain her away?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She contrasted the woman and Vivien as she had seen -them together on the Glenogle road, and she conjured -up the supreme contempt that would gather in Vivien's -eyes were she pitted against her. She would absolutely -disdain such humiliation. Isla felt sure that the man -who would win Vivien Rosmead from her disillusionment, -who aspired to heal her hurts, must have a clean record. -How dared Malcolm, with what was behind and before -him, aspire to her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla wondered at the audacity of men. Yet her heart -was also stirred with pity for him in that he must reap -the bitter harvest of his folly and his sin. Her heart -was passing weary, the burden had not been lightened -with her father's death, but seemed to have waxed -heavier. And she must get away. She felt herself a -coward in view of what might come. She could not -breast anew scandal in the Glen and she must get away. -Such weakness and weariness crept over her that she could -have laid her head down and slept for ever. She held -on bravely with her preparations, however, and when they -were finished she rang the bell for Margaret Maclaren.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The dinner iss ready, Miss Isla. Am I to send it -in?" asked that competent domestic with just a touch -of aggressiveness in her mien and manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know where Mr. Malcolm is or when he will -come back. But, yes--send it in if it will make you -any happier, Margaret, and lift that dour cloud from -your face," she added hastily. "I know I can trust you -to keep something hot for Mr. Malcolm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, as to that, it can be done. But I'm gettin' tired -of it, Miss Isla. I nefer saw such a man, or such a -hoose--beggin' your pardin for my plain speech. He -takes less account of times and seasons than anybody -I have ever seen or heard tell of. I don't know what he -thinks happens in a kitchen, or whether he knows how -food is made, but he expects it to be ready when he iss, -whatefer the hour of the day. It iss not in my power, -Miss Isla. I'm gettin' to be an old woman and not fit -for my job."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, Margaret. You never were fitter, and you -must warstle through with it a little longer anyhow, -because I am going away to-morrow for some weeks, -and you must simply look after Creagh till I come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you goin', Miss Isla? To her Ladyship, -iss it? Well, it will do you good, and it iss there you -ought to haf gone long since. I will stop, then, till you -come back. And I hope the change will do you good, -for it iss fery thin and white-like you are gettin', my -dear, and it iss time something wass done. I will do -my best for Maister Malcolm, and if it should pe that -we fall out peyond making up while you are away I'll -write and let ye know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla had not expected sympathy from Margaret, who, -between Diarmid and his master, was now kept in a -state of continual agitation which had a very bad effect -on a temper that was not placid at the best of times.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla thanked her, and, with a mind considerably eased, -went down to eat her solitary meal. After dinner she -busied herself writing a few notes of farewell--one of -them to Kitty Drummond and one to Elspeth Maclure, -regarding whom her conscience was troubling her not a -little. But she afterwards tore up Elspeth's, deciding -that if Jamie Forbes came to Creagh in good time she -would make him stop at Darrach on the way down so -that she might say good-bye in a proper manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The evening wore on--eight, nine, ten o'clock--and -still no word of Malcolm. Isla looked out again and -again, and once she even walked out to the gate to see -whether the twinkling light of the bicycle lamp was -visible down the long vista of the road. When it was -half-past ten she went to bed, for she had walked -many miles that day, and her packing exertions--to say -nothing of the strain of things on her mind--had left her -very tired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was awakened long after by the banging of a door, -she thought; but, listening intently, she heard nothing -further, and so she fell asleep and did not wake till -morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Breakfast had been ordered half an hour earlier than -usual to give her time to catch the train, and she had -nearly finished before Malcolm made his appearance. -She looked at him rather keenly as he entered, and was -immediately struck by his haggard looks. He appeared -like one who had either not slept or had spent the night -in some doubtful place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, dear. I owe you an apology, of -course. I had a burst tyre other side of Lochearn last -night, and it was near midnight when I got home. I -hardly expected that you would sit up. At what time -do you start?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jamie ought to be here any moment. I trysted him -for half-past eight, and it's twenty past now. I hear the -wheel, I think. Yes--there he is. Aren't you going to -eat anything, Malcolm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Isn't there any coffee? Oh, I forgot--she can't -make coffee. It's a cup of black coffee I'd like this -morning. Is the tea strong? I'm coming down with -you, of course, Isla. What else did you think? Don't -wait here if you want to go upstairs or to be seeing after -your stuff, though we've plenty of time, really."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla gladly escaped. She gathered from the general -appearance of her brother that care sat heavily upon -him. But she had not the smallest desire to question -him. Nay, her longing to get away from the increasingly -sordid conditions of her life had now become a -positive fever in her veins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rest was what she craved--rest from haunting -thoughts, from phantoms of dread, from the menacing -sword which seemed to be suspended over Achree and -all bearing the name of Mackinnon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she was to prove before another twenty-four hours -were over that there are things in this world from which -it is impossible to get away--crosses that have to be -endured--heroically if possible, but certainly endured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm was in the back seat of the dogcart, and did -not speak a single word on the way down. They halted -at Darrach, where a slight disappointment was Isla's--she -did not see Elspeth. Donald himself, who seemed -to be minding the house--at any rate, he had the second -youngest child in his arms--came out of the gate to -explain that his wife had gone to Govan to see their -niece Jeanie Maclure, who was down with pneumonia. -She had taken the baby with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sent many messages to her, and passed on with a -little sense of relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they got to Lochearnhead Station the signal -was down for the Oban train, which could be seen -gliding swiftly round the curve of the hill. At the last -moment the drag from Garrion, with the familiar pair -of roans in the shafts, drove up rapidly, and Neil -Drummond came bounding up to the platform. When -he saw Malcolm Mackinnon handing his sister into the -train he went forward eagerly, though the man whom -he had come to meet--a visitor from Oban--had already -alighted, and was on the outlook for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good day, Isla. Are you travelling?" he asked; -and, seeing the dressing-bag, the rug, the strapped -articles on the rack, he looked a trifle blank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's going to Aunt Jean and Uncle Tom at -Wimereaux," answered Malcolm when Isla said nothing. -"Don't you think the change will do her good?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. But how long is she to be away?" inquired Neil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And his tone was so imploring, that Malcolm, -understanding perfectly how it was, good-naturedly -stepped back to give him a chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why this sudden journey, Isla?" Neil demanded -with an imperious air, which showed how much he -cared about the whole affair. "Last time I saw you -you said nothing on earth would induce you to go -Wimereaux."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was Malcolm who said I was going there," said -Isla demurely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answer puzzled Neil, and filled him with lively -forebodings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isla," he said a trifle hoarsely, "you're not going -do anything foolish? What has happened? Have you -had a quarrel with Malcolm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all. I only want a change, Neil. Don't worry -about me. Nothing can possibly happen to a strong -young woman, with her head screwed pretty firmly on -her shoulders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil swung himself on the footboard of the train, quite -heedless of the fact that his guest was looking about for -him on the platform in hopeless disappointment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isla, you are going to your uncle and aunt? Unless -I am assured on that point, I'll step into the train and -go with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla laughed at that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should you care, Neil? I'm only going a little -journey on my own. I'll probably be back before -anyone has had time to miss me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That can't happen. It'll be a long day for me till -you come back to Glenogle. And, further, I'm not happy -in my mind about you. In fact, I'm most unhappy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be, then, Neil. I'm not worth it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's my business, my dear," he said, and never -had he looked more manly or more attractive. "Somehow, -we all seem to have lost you lately. They all say -that--Kitty, Aunt Betty, even the Rosmeads. They -were speaking of you the other day. You haven't -treated us well, Isla, whatever you may think. And -now, this beats everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The train is moving, Neil. Get down, or you will be -hurt," she cried nervously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he still hung persistently to the half-open door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll write, Isla. Promise at least that you will -write either to Kitty or to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll write to Kitty. Give her my love and tell her -she'll hear from me without fail in a week or two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if you want a friend, Isla, if there's anything I -can do for you, promise you'll send for me or let me -know. There isn't anything I won't do. No journey -would be too long or too difficult if I had the prospect -of serving you at the end of it, and--and well, you know -the rest, don't you? I daren't say all I want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strong hand behind him took him by the coat-tails -and dragged him from the now swiftly moving train, and -the last Isla saw of Lochearn was Neil Drummond's face -and the appeal in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm was too late for the final good-bye, but Isla, -on the whole, was rather glad that she had escaped it. -She pulled up the open window-sash and flung herself -back in the corner with a quick, heaving sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all over, then. The cords had been cut, and -she was adrift from Glenogle and all the trammels of -the old life. What would the new bring, she wondered? -A little sob broke from between her trembling lips as -her eyes looked through the window at the wide Glen of -Balquhidder to the misty hills beyond, where the glory -of the heather was beginning to be dimmed. When -should she see it all again, and in what mood?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Strathyre her eyes were too red to permit her to -look out, and happily no passenger sought to disturb -her. By the time the train reached Callander she was -calm again, and she arrived at Glasgow, quite composed. -She left her luggage in the cloak-room and walked, since -she had plenty of time, to the lawyer's office in -St. Vincent Place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cattanach was able to see her at once, and he -received her with his usual kindness of manner. He -had thought a good deal about her of late and had -wondered how she was getting on at Creagh with -Malcolm, with whom he had had several rather stormy -interviews.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm on my way to London, Mr. Cattanach, and as I -had an hour to spare before my train starts I thought -I should like to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely. On your way to London, are you? For a -long visit?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I think so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Thomas and Lady Mackinnon are still across the -Channel, I think. I saw in the News one night lately -that they are not expected at Barras till November?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right, I believe," said Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you joining them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not just yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cattanach scrutinized her rather closely. He did -not know how far she might stand questioning, but he -gathered from a certain quiet determination in her -manner that she had some quite definite plan in her -mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Cattanach," said Isla clearly, "you have always -been kind to me and have understood things right -through. I can never forget how kind you were just -before my brother came home. I can't go on living at -Creagh with him any longer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not surprised. I've been expecting to hear this -for some time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a dependent on his bounty. I ought not to have -been left like that, but I don't want to grumble about -it. He thinks I'm going to Wimereaux to my aunt and -uncle. But I have no such intention."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! I hope that you have at least some satisfactory -haven in view, Miss Mackinnon," he said, with -distinct anxiety in his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have several very clear ideas. To-night I shall -stay at the Euston Hotel and to-morrow I shall go to an -old servant of Achree who is married in the West End of -London. She keeps a boarding-house. From her house -it is my intention to seek some employment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cattanach looked the surprise he felt. His disapproval, -he decided, he had better keep to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am honoured by this conference, Miss Mackinnon, -and since you have told me so much I am encouraged -to ask more. What sort of employment, may I ask, -does Miss Mackinnon of Achree think she will find in -London?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes flashed a little mournfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I belong to the great sad army of the partially -equipped, Mr. Cattanach, but I know my limitations and -I shall keep within them. Also I shall be able to earn -my daily bread. I have come to you, because,--for -reasons which I don't think I could really explain, even -if I tried--I feel that I should like at least one -responsible person to know where I am and precisely what I -am doing. But I require that, unless circumstances -arise which render it absolutely necessary that it should -be known, you will not give that information to anybody -in Glenogle or at Balquhidder," she added as an -after-thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You forget. I have no communication with Glenogle -or Balquhidder now except through your brother. He -is not likely to ask me your whereabouts. Will you give -me your address?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll send it," she said diplomatically. "I want to get -clean away from everything for a while, Mr. Cattanach, -for really I don't quite know where I am standing. I -even feel as if I were some strange, new sort of person -with whom I have to get freshly acquainted. Can you -understand that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand that life has been very hard for you, -my dear," he said involuntarily. "And I have often -prayed that your day of brightness would come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It won't come," she said with a little nod. "I'm -one of those predestined to gloom. Tell me, -Mr. Cattanach, before I go," she added with a little touch -of wistful tenderness that wholly became her, "how -do you think it is with my brother now? You have -seen him several times. Is--is he doing well? You -wonder perhaps that I should ask. But my judgment, -where he is concerned, has become entirely distorted. -That is one of the reasons why I want to get away, -because I am seeing nothing clearly, fairly, or justly, -especially in relation to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think he means well. But he is not fitted for the -life of a country laird. He would have made a better -soldier. It is a thousand pities that he had to leave the -Army."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is. Don't you think," she added after a moment's -hesitation, "don't you think it a very wonderful thing -that the true story of his leaving the Army has never -got about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it more than wonderful. There must have -been somebody very high in power, manipulating the -strings in the background. But it is a very good thing -for you that the story was hushed up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I don't think that Malcolm realizes how he has -been spared. He is not so grateful as he ought to be," -she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she bit her lip, as if she regretted the -condemnatory words and as if she wished to recall them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can take you out to lunch to-day, I hope?" said -the lawyer, pulling out his watch. "Unless Mr. Drummond -is waiting somewhere round the corner?" he added -with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I am quite alone, and I shall be very pleased to -go to lunch with you," said Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found the next hour quite pleasant. Cattanach -took her to the station, transferred her luggage, and -secured for her a comfortable seat in the London train. -He could not wait until its departure, however, as he -had a West-End appointment at two o'clock. They -parted cordially and Isla repeated her promise to send -him her London address as soon as she herself was -quite sure of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spread her things about and then, tucking her rug -about her, began to glance over some of the illustrated -papers. So far, no one had interfered with her privacy -by entering the compartment. She had no expectation, -however, that she would be allowed to retain it all the -way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About three minutes before the train started there -was a great bustle and talking outside the carriage -window, and presently a porter, laden with sundry small -packages, most of them rolled up in brown paper, -entered the compartment, followed by a large woman in -a brown tweed travelling coat of ample dimensions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla looked over the rim of her paper in mild curiosity -and then quite suddenly she paled a little and hastily -withdrew behind her screen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the lady of the purple gown.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-london-train"><span class="large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">IN THE LONDON TRAIN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The train had started before Isla's travelling -companion caught a glimpse of her face. She rose up with -a sudden bang from her seat, with the result that, in spite -of herself, Isla lowered her paper a little to see what was -going to happen. What she did see was only the purple -lady removing her large and unsuitable headgear, which -seemed to interfere with her comfort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hats are gettin' worse every day," she said with a -pleasant smile as she jabbed two immense pins with -imitation moonstone tops into the stuffing of the -cushions behind her. "Soon they'll need to get us -hat-compartments. Eh--what? Now, where have I seen -you before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took some hairpins from her abundant and really -pretty hair, and with a back-comb began to do her -toilet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was saved the difficulty of answering by a sudden -gleam of recognition wandering across the lady's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I know--on the road right down there in -Glenogle yesterday! Now, ain't you jolly glad to be -gettin' away from that God-forsaken hole?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just at the present moment I am," Isla admitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wondered what means she should take to ensure -for herself quiet and privacy. She was incapable of -any act of studied rudeness, but the prospect of listening -to the woman's talk appalled her. Should she call the -guard and ask to be given another seat in another -compartment, or should she politely inform her -fellow-traveller that she did not care to talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady flopped upon her seat, shook her head to -see whether the coils of her hair were firmer, and then -settled herself back among the cushions, smoothing out -the creases of her cheap blanket-coat with a plump -white hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had now a black frock on, but, in contrast with -Isla's neat, trim, well-fitting suit of home-spun, it -looked badly cut, badly worn, altogether unsuitable for -a journey. There were quantities of white net--not too -clean--about her neck, and many brooches and a long -chain, on which hung a lorgnette, while a double -eyeglass was pinned to her bosom. She wore a great many -rings of sorts and a wedding one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's eyes were quick enough to detect that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goin' all the way?" she asked with an engaging smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So am I, and jolly glad I'll be to hear the noise and -smell the good old smells of the Euston Road. How -they live up there! But there--it ain't livin', is it now? -Would you call it livin'--eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Isla, diverted in spite of herself, and -feeling no longer the appalling dread that pursued her -in Glenogle regarding this very woman, "it depends on -what you call living."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so. Well, I like a bit of fun myself--a night -out occasionally and a bit of stir in the daytime. Them -hills, and big, dark locks get on my nerves. I was -four days at the little hotel at Strathyre, and I had just -about enough of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Visiting friends in the neighbourhood?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," snapped the woman. "It was a bit of business -I was on, and it was last night before I saw the party I -had to see. Not but what I was comfortable there, and -they do make good food. Ever stopped there? They -tell me they hadn't an empty bed from Easter till -now--full up with fishermen and that sort. Can't -understand it--don't pretend to. It's the silence--the big -empty silence that gets at me. It would drive me crazy -in a month, and I'd be gettin' up in my sleep and -wanderin' into that water."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would get used to Strathyre," said Isla, smiling a -little as she raised her paper, and hoping that there -might now be a reprieve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her passionate hope was that the woman, who had -all the unreserve of her class, would not be seized with -a sudden desire to confide the nature of her business to -her fellow-traveller. She did not want to hear the -truth from these lips. If necessary she would have to -tell her somehow that she did not wish to go on talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I doubt it very much! I've been about too much -and seen too much life to settle down in the country. -I may have to, perhaps, later on, when I get older and -not so fond of racket. Nothing to hurt--don't you -know?--only a night at one of the halls and a good old -canter down Regent Street and Oxford Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never saw anybody riding there," said Isla in a -startled voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean that, of course!" laughed the stranger; -"not but what I could do it and make the traffic sit up -for me too. When I was in India I had me own horse -every mornin' and them grinnin' black men to hold it -for me till I was ready to mount. I had a figure then -as slim as yours, and they all said I looked better in me -habit than in anything else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What part of India were you in?" asked Isla, -fascinated in spite of herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pretty well all over, but latterly I was in the north. My -husband was in the Fighting Fifth. Ever heard of them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, of course. They were through the Afghan -campaign. My father was a soldier, and he used to -show us as children their marches on the map."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed! Then you know something about the -service? Any brother in it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had one," said Isla, and the colour rose hotly in -her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love it. Even when I was a little nipper I always said -I'd never marry anybody but a soldier. And I didn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is your husband alive still?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No--dead. Killed in action he was, a-savin' of his -Colonel. I've got the little brown cross at home -somewhere. These were the days! There never was a -braver chap than Joe Bisley ever shouldered a musket. -Ah, poor Joe!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, perceiving that her companion was now in the -throes of reminiscence, shrank back nervously in her -corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doesn't it make your head ache to talk in the train?" -she asked rather hastily. "There are heaps of papers here -if you like to read. You are welcome to any of them. -The gentleman who saw me off bought a great many."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I don't wonder!" said the other with an -admiring glance of approval. "You are just the sort that -they would buy everything for if they got the chance. -A little standoffish, too--ain't that what they like? -Oh, I know them through and through!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of herself, Isla laughed out loud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it was a very old friend of my family who was -seeing me off to-day! My father's lawyer in fact."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, then, he knew what side his bread was buttered -on. And are you goin' to London, may I ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What particular part?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall stay the night at the Euston Hotel. I may -go abroad. My plans are a little indefinite at present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Same as mine. It ain't an easy thing for a lone -woman to make up her mind, and, as I told the party I -spoke of, last night, I'm gettin' tired of uncertainty. -I want to know where I am. That's what for I took that -long journey and stopped at that queer little hotel. I -wanted to see a party and get my bearings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And did you get them?" asked Isla desperately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I think so. But, bless you, you never know -where you are with them. They're as slippery as eels. -If you weren't so pretty, my dear, I'd warn you to steer -clear of them for the rest of your mortal life. But it -ain't in reason that you'll be allowed. There must be -dozens after you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla shook her head and then pointed suggestively to -the illustrated papers, even making a remark about one -of the pictures on the cover.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the lady did not accept the hint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't read much," she confessed. "And men and -women are much more interesting than books. When -you've seen a bit of life, as I have, what's written in a -book doesn't count for much. It's like a stuffed sawdust -man beside a real flesh-and-blood one. Yes, they're a -slippery crew, but they makes life--don't they, my dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They make its dispeace, anyhow," said Isla, -surprised into an expression of opinion that she -immediately regretted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her companion's face brightened, and she sat forward -eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fancy you thinkin' that! Well, as you've had reason -to say that, I don't mind tellin' you I agree. They're -worth watchin', they need watchin' all the time, though -most of them are like babies, with no more thought of -what's goin' to happen. Now there's me! When I was -in India I was pretty and slim as you are, though you -wouldn't think it, and I was a toast in the station and -could have had me pick after Joe died. There was the -Sergeant--a splendid figure of a man with four medals -and pay saved. He would have married me right off, -and so would the little Corporal, and even one of the -subs. that had an Earl for his grandfather; but I passed -by them all and took up with one that nobody could be -sure of. He's here to-day and gone to-morrow, so to -speak, and even his wife couldn't keep him on the -string."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla jumped up with her colour fluttering and threw -down her paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very hot in here, isn't it? Excuse me, but I -must go out into the corridor for a little fresh air. I -can't stand the heat any longer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, poor dear, have a drop of brandy! They do -have uncommon good spirits at Strathyre, but then, it's -the dew of their own mountains, isn't it? Do have a -drop, dearie. It'll buck you up at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, thank you!" cried Isla over her shoulder -from the corridor. "I never touch spirits. I only want -to be quiet and not talk for the rest of the journey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bisley looked disappointed, but she comforted -herself with a drop of the dew of the mountains and then -sat down to have a look at the papers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once Isla glanced back at her and, in spite of herself, -had to admit the prettiness of her face. She looked -about thirty-five, and had she been properly dressed she -could have been made to look much more attractive. -There was something winning about her, too, but--oh, -the irony of fate that should have brought them together -in that narrow space, from which it was impossible to -escape!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's abnormally quick perception had easily filled -in the lines of the story. She had no doubt that the -party referred to by her fellow-traveller was Malcolm. -And that the woman believed that she had a right to -him there could be no doubt. He had not admitted her -claim, Isla concluded, else surely he could never have -been so base as lift his eyes to Vivien Rosmead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt sick as she pressed her throbbing head against -the cold glass of the corridor window, enjoying the swish -of the wind on her cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Should she never get away from the shadows which -had darkened her life? Was it ordained that she -should be pursued, far beyond the limits of Glenogle, -by the sordid phantoms of Malcolm's past and present? -Was fate wholly inexorable--were poor human beings -but puppets, liable to be rudely moved hither and -thither upon the boards of the stage of life? If it were -so she might as well go back and fight it out on the -Moor of Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Feelin' better, my dear?" said Mrs. Bisley kindly, -when she presently turned her head. "The first lunch -will be comin' along immediately, and that'll make you -feel better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't take it," said Isla, seeing a probable -respite for an hour or so, during which she might -either escape or rearrange her plans. "I have a few -sandwiches in my dressing-bag and, later, I shall get a -cup of tea. I never eat much when I am travelling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mistake, my dear. Take it from me that has -travelled a lot both by land and sea. If you don't eat -you get so low that you can't bear yourself. Do say two -for luncheon when the waiter comes along; then we'll -go in together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The attendant came at the moment to inform them -that the first luncheon would be served in about twenty -minutes. Isla crept back again to her corner under the -sympathetic scrutiny of her companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a colour you have, to be sure! Sorry you -don't feel up to luncheon," she said cheerfully. "It's -all use. When you've knocked about as much as I have -you'll get more experiences. I'm up to all travelling -dodges."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla had no doubt of it. She opened out another -paper and let her eyes fall languidly on it, praying -fervidly for the quick passage of the next twenty minutes. -At another time she would have most thoroughly -enjoyed such a travelling-companion and would -undoubtedly have elicited her whole family history. But -now her whole desire and aim was to stem the avalanche.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Queer--wasn't it?--that we should meet like this," -pursued her wholly unconscious tormentor. "I took -to you that day when I met you on the road far more -than to that other one you was with when you came -back. She's a haughty piece, if you like. They told -me at the hotel at Strathyre that it's expected she'll -maybe be Lady of Achree some day, but we don't think!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody pays any attention to the gossip of the -Glen," said Isla, the desperate look stealing to her face -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you may take it from me that that won't -come orf," said Mrs. Bisley with cheerful emphasis, at -the same time picking up a paper and beginning a -languid inspection of the pictures it contained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For about ten minutes there was a blessed silence, -and then the restaurant attendant appeared to ask -them to take seats for the first luncheon. Mrs. Bisley, -full of pleasurable anticipation, jumped up and -proceeded to arrange her hair and pin on her hat at the -most becoming angle. Then she grasped her hand-bag -and came out into the corridor, nodding delightedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure you won't come, Miss? It would do you no -end of good. Do be persuaded."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, thank you. I couldn't eat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, I leave you to keep our seats. Hope we don't -have anyone else put in with us at Carlisle. Then we -can have a nice chat all the afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heaven forbid!" said Isla in her inmost soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few minutes after her companion had disappeared, -and when the corridor was quite empty, she rang the -bell. It was a long time before anyone answered it. -Then, indeed, it was only the conductor who came. -He had not even heard the bell--he merely came through -by chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you be so kind as to get me another seat at -once and have my things moved?" she said, with that -single touch of hauteur mingled with appeal which, -somehow, always commanded immediate service.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man touched his hat, looked inquiringly into the -compartment, and, seeing no one, put a question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The train is rather full, ma'am. Are you not comfortable -here? I don't believe there is another compartment -in it with only two passengers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mind. I want to move," said Isla desperately. -"I--I don't care for my fellow-traveller. No--she isn't in -the least objectionable, but I want to move right to the -other end of the train, if possible, and if there is no other -accommodation I'll pay for a first-class seat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, Miss. I'll see what I can do," he said -obligingly enough as he moved on through the doorway -of the corridor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla feverishly began at once to gather her things -together, and she had her dressing-bag in her hand and -her rug over her arm when, in about eight minutes' time, -the guard returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is one corner seat in the front of the train--two -gentlemen and a lady in the compartment. One of -them is going out at Crewe. So if you'd care to wait till -then----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you. I'll go now," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man, still further puzzled, made up his mind to -come through later and take a look at the other occupant -of the compartment, now absent. He gathered up Isla's -things and led the way to the front portion of the train. -Isla felt that she was not particularly welcome in her -new quarters. A woman, eating oranges, glared at her -disagreeably, but at least she was left severely alone. -She felt weak and limp after the strain of the morning, -and all the afternoon every footfall in the corridor made -her start, fully expecting to behold in pursuit of her the -companion whom she had deserted. But she neither -saw nor heard any more of her until they arrived at -Euston and rubbed shoulders at the luggage barriers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla did not perceive her at first, and had just called -out to the man that Mackinnon was the name on her box.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the sound of it Mrs. Bisley started back as if she -had been shot, her vivid colour paled, and she put her -hand to her side as if she felt some spasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm blest!" she whispered inly to herself. -"So that's it! I might have known. Oh, Winnie Bisley, -once more your long tongue has got you into trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had the delicacy of feeling to wish to efface -herself from Isla Mackinnon's eyes, and yet she had a most -insatiable desire to find out her destination. Remembering, -however, that she had said she would sleep the -night at the Euston Hotel she gave up the idea of -discovery as impracticable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Isla's porter shouldered her trunk and she turned -to follow him towards the hotel entrance she saw the -woman again, and their eyes met.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bisley did not even smile, but Isla, as she passed -by her, paused for the fraction of a second.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not mean to be so rude as you may have -thought, but my head ached dreadfully and I felt that I -must get away to where it was not necessary to talk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I quite understand," replied Mrs. Bisley. "Don't -apologize. I don't take offence easily. I'm not that sort. -You're Miss Mackinnon, aren't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It might have saved a lot of talk if you had told me -your name at the beginning," she said a trifle drily. -"But, after all, perhaps there isn't any great harm done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope not. You meant to be kind, I'm sure. Good -night, Mrs. Bisley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bisley was my name," she said grimly. "Good -night, Miss Mackinnon. If it should be that you ever -want to see me again--and stranger things have -happened--you'll find me at 21 Henrietta Street, off the -Edgeware Road--fourth turning on your left from the -Marble Arch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll remember it," said Isla hastily. "Good night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was glad once more to escape. She had got much -fresh food for thought, and she was at a loss to know -how to act in a matter which seemed to concern her, and -yet with which she was loth to intermeddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On one point, however, her mind was absolutely made -up. Malcolm should not win Vivien Rosmead under -false pretences. Not for the second time should the -peace and happiness of that dear woman be imperilled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she did not yet know how she was going to prevent -the crowning act of the tragedy of Malcolm's life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tragedy" was the word Isla used to herself as the -whole story beat upon her brain where she lay, tossing -sleepless in her noisy bedroom, disturbed by the shriek -of the trains, the long dull roar of life in the Euston -Road, and, above all, by the phantoms of her own sad -heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How easily, by putting a few adroit questions, could -she have wiled the whole story from her fellow-traveller's -lips! It was not her pride alone that had prevented her -from asking these questions. She was afraid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fell asleep with one last haunting thought in her -mind--how much happier than she were the Mackinnons -who slept their last dreamless sleep on the Braes of -Balquhidder.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-reality-of-things"><span class="large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE REALITY OF THINGS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Towards the morning Isla fell into a heavy, dreamless -sleep, from which she did not awake till half-past ten -o'clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sense of confusion and dismay swept over her when -she realized how late it was, until she remembered that, -in her scheme of things, time just then was of no -consequence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Certainly she had things to do, but the hour of their -doing mattered to no man or woman. She was alone, -she was free, this day and other days were in front of her -to do with what she willed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sprang up, rang for hot water, and, pulling up the -blind a little way, looked out upon streets bathed in a -flood of glorious autumn sunshine. Somehow, it -comforted her that London did not weep at her coming. It -seemed an augury of good will. She had not known how -physically tired she was until she had stretched herself -on her bed. And now, her strength fully restored by -sleep, her spirit became less craven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was still joyous over her escape. Things might -happen in the Glen and she would never know. She, -whose interest in the smallest event there had ever been -of the warm and proprietary kind, had by one drastic -step cut herself off from her old life. And for the -moment she had room for little else in her mind but a -sense of lively relief that she had gotten clean away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she dressed leisurely she reviewed the events of -yesterday, among which the meeting and conversation -with Joe Bisley's widow stood out in odd relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was not without a latent sense of humour. In -happier circumstances she could have extracted a great -deal of amusement from the passing show of life, and -she was able to smile at the situation of yesterday. It -had been Gilbertian to the last degree, and might have -been culled from the pages of the latest comic opera.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What surprised her most was that she had no feeling -of indignation or resentment against this woman who -had stepped from the unknown into the Mackinnon -scheme of things. Nay, she felt kindly towards her--she -felt that somewhere, deep down in that undisciplined -nature, there was gold. It was not the woman's fault -that she had been born in another sphere, that she was -so far from comprehending Isla's own points of view.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had other qualities which are common to the -whole of humanity--good feeling, honesty, kind-heartedness, -and sympathy. Isla was womanly enough and -just enough to concede the possession of all these to -Winifred Bisley. Her own innate goodness convinced -her that this woman was not, and could not be, wholly -bad. And no doubt--and here her thoughts again -became tinged with bitterness--in this case also Malcolm -had been to blame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She preferred to leave the unfinished story, however, -to try to banish from her mind the problem of the loose -threads which wanted weaving together. As for the day -of unravelling, that was hid in the womb of time, but -from past experience Isla had no doubt that that day -would surely come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her mind's eye this morning Glenogle was shadowy, -and even her passionate championship of Vivien -Rosmead seemed to suffer some chill. She was concerned -altogether with herself. And perhaps just then that -was no bad thing for Isla Mackinnon, seeing that she -had arrogated to herself so long the rôle of general -burden-bearer to the community.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt fit and strong and hopeful as she belted her -trim waist and fastened the Mackinnon badge into her -black tie and set her hat firmly on her pretty hair. The -memory of the nodding plumes and the moonstone -hat-pins evoked a smile as she turned away from the -mirror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With that smile still lingering on her lips she went -forth to conquer London!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was the very last arrival in the breakfast-room, -and she apologized for her lateness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was very tired after my long journey," she said to -the head waiter. "If it is too late for breakfast I must -take something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too late, madam! It is never too late here for anything," -he said magnificently as he directed her gallantly -to a small table set comfortably near to the cheerful fire, -and placed the menu card before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Isla had made her choice one of the satellites -was instructed to fulfil her order with dispatch, and the -head waiter stood near in case that the charming lady -should desire further speech with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I don't think I shall require my room another -night," she answered, when he ventured on a polite -inquiry. "I have had to come up rather unexpectedly, -and, immediately after breakfast, I shall go out and see -the friend with whom I expect to stay while I am in -London. I may leave my things here, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, madam. The room's yours until the evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you. Have you been having good weather -in London? It is lovely this morning. And please, can -you tell me the best way to get from here to the -Edgeware Road?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Underground, madam, from King's Cross. It will -take you in about ten minutes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla thanked him again, and when he laid the morning -paper before her she felt that a hotel could be a very -comfortable place. She was glad to hear about the -Underground, because her riches were not great, and she -must be careful about small expenses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About noon she sallied forth on foot to find the -Metropolitan station at King's Cross. She was an -absolute stranger to that part of London. True, she had -frequently arrived at the great termini, but on these -occasions she had simply got into a cab or carriage and -been quickly conveyed westward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She enjoyed the new experience--she was in the mood -at the moment to enjoy everything and to put the best -face even on her difficulties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the Edgeware Road station she felt confused by the -frightful congestion in the streets until, in answer to an -inquiry, a friendly policeman told her that the street -she wished to find was near the Park end of the wide -thoroughfare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About ten minutes' walk, Miss," he assured her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, though a policeman's ten minutes is an elastic -measure, Isla was not unduly tired by the time she -reached Agnes Fraser's door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before she rang the bell she looked critically up and -down Cromer Street, contemplating the fact that for -some time to come it would limit her horizon. It was -eminently respectable but dull, and some of the houses -had a dingy look. Even Mrs. Fraser's, Isla thought, -was less bright and cheerful than usual. The brass -furnishings on the doors looked as if they had not been -polished for several days, and the raindrops had dried -upon the "Apartments" plate which, the last time Isla -had seen it, had shone like gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An exceedingly untidy slip of a girl about sixteen, in -response to her ring, opened the door just a few inches. -She had a squint in one eye, which perhaps accounted -for her cap being set awry on her unkempt hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Mrs. Fraser at home?" asked Isla imperiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yus, Miss, but she ain't well, she's in bed. You -can't see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This dashed Isla's fine spirits for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In bed is she? What is the matter--anything serious?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's 'ad newmonier, been mortial bad, Miss, but -she's gettin' better. Only if it's apartments yer after, -there ain't any."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She delivered herself of this statement wholly on her -own initiative, and in order to get rid as quickly as -possible of her questioner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Mrs. Fraser very ill? Has she been able to see -anyone just lately?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yus, Miss, she's bin up at midday since Monday. -She's settin' up now in 'er room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll come inside," said Isla decidedly. "Go upstairs -and tell her that Miss Mackinnon from Achree has -called and would like very much to see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yus, Miss," said the girl stolidly, and, opening the -door a little more widely, permitted Isla to step into -the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ain't anywheer but Mr. Carswell's room. The -drorin'-room lidy ain't out this mornin'. Yus--yer can -sit 'ere if yer likes. But Missis Fraser, she don't like me -leavin' folks in the hall since a werry decent-looking -man took away three umbrellas and Mister Carswell's -best greatcoat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sat down on one of the rush-bottomed chairs and -asked the girl to make haste to convey her message. -Very soon she heard the quick shutting of various doors, -the rushing about of feet upstairs, and, after about five -minutes, the damsel appeared out of breath and with -her cap more awry than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yer can come up," she said laconically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla proceeded to ascend the somewhat dark staircase, -which received all the light it possessed from a dome in -the roof three floors up. All these stairs had Isla to -ascend, for Mrs. Fraser was fully let, and she had had to -retire to one of the attics when she was laid aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a very bare room, but a bright fire made it -fairly cheerful, and Agnes herself in a red flannelette -dressing-gown, blushing all over her face, was in the -middle of the room to welcome Isla when she reached -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm very sorry, dear Miss Isla, to bring you up all -this way. But could I help it? Oh, what I have -suffered bein' shut up here, an' the hoose at the mercy -o' thae rubbitch in the kitchen! Hoo mony times had -ye to ring?--three or fewer, I'll be bound."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, only once--and don't worry yourself, dear soul," -said Isla, whose joy at sight of Mrs. Fraser's homely and -welcoming face could not be dimmed by the recital -of sordid details. "I hope you are really getting -better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh ay. I'm to get doon the morn. I'm very sorry -I'm no doon the day for ye. If ye had written I wad -hae been doon. Noo I canna offer ye onything--no -even a cup o' tea. I wad never be sure hoo it wad come up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't need anything," said Isla, as she closed the -door and put Agnes back in her chair. "I've only just -come out from my breakfast at the Euston Hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not stoppin' wi' Lady Mackinnon, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. They are still abroad. They will not come -back, I think, for about two months yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes looked a trifle puzzled, but sat waiting -respectfully for further enlightenment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your little maid told me downstairs that you are -full up when she supposed I was looking for accommodation," -said Isla presently. "I hope she only said that -to get rid of me. I want a room here, Agnes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fraser's face flushed again with the quick nervous -flush of the invalid who is not yet quite able to cope -with everyday affairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Miss Isla, this is not the place for you--and -very well ye ken it. I can gie ye another address. -Ye mind Lady Eden's own maid Martin? She's in -Seymour Street, and doin' well. Ye should go and see -her. She wad be very prood to get ye, I am sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla shook her head, drew her chair a little nearer that -of Agnes, and looked at her very straightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't afford to go to Martin, even if I liked -her--which I never did. Things have not been going very -well with me lately, Agnes, and--and it became imperative -that I should get away. I can't explain it to you -this morning, and I know you will never ask questions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope I ken my place a little better than that, Miss -Isla," said Mrs. Fraser.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But her tone was sad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not at all well off, and, in fact, I must look about -immediately for something to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this strange announcement Mrs. Fraser fell back -in her chair, as if overcome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Miss Isla, ye don't say so! It's awful, my dear! -You to be seekin' something to do! It's no richt--it -canna be richt. Oh, my dear, what is the meanin' -o' it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla dashed away a sudden moisture from her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's difficult to explain. You must have known that -things were not going well at Achree for a long time, -not even in my father's lifetime. Since he died and -my brother has become the Laird affairs have got all -muddled, and the outlook is hopeless. Further, we don't -get on, Agnes. You knew Malcolm as a boy of seven -years. So perhaps I needn't say much more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. But to let you go out into the world like -this--it's a cryin' shame! You--a Mackinnon o' Achree! It -shouldna be," said Agnes desperately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he did not actually send me out, you know, -Agnes. In fact, he thinks I am on my way to France--to -my aunt and uncle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And surely he is richt. That is where ye should be, -Miss Isla. Oh, tak' my advice and go now. London's -a cauld, cruel place for them that has to get their livin'. -It's me and Fraser that kens that. And for you to -be oot in it! It minds me on naething but a lamb that -has wandered frae its mither amang the little hills and -wi' the snaw comin' doon like to blind it. Ye canna do -it, Miss Isla. Tak' it frae me that kens--ye canna -do it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must, Agnes, and if you can't encourage me you -must hold your tongue, dear soul," said Isla bravely. -"Let us get back to the point. Can you let me have a -room? In fact, you must let me have a room--quite -cheap, though at its market-value and not a penny less. -All I want to make sure of is that I am under your roof. -Nothing else matters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes, still flushed and nervous, gave the matter rapid -consideration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The drawing-room floor is what ye ocht to hae, Miss Isla."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I couldn't pay for it. So, what comes next?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's the floor below this--the back room. It's -big and very quiet, but it doesna get much sun. There -has been a French artist in it, and he painted things on -the doors and on the mantelpiece. Some thinks them -very bonnie. He gaed oot only last week awa' back to -his ain country, and he was apparently very sorry to -leave. He was a very decent man for a Frenchman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That sounds more like it," said Isla cheerfully. -"How much, Agnes? Honest Indian, now--how much -did the Frenchman pay?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twelve shillings a week, and he had his breakfast -for that. But it was a French breakfast--naething but -coffee and rolls. I would never charge you that, though. -Miss Isla; if ye would just tak' the room it's a prood -woman I'd be, and as for Fraser, he would be neither to -haud nor bind aboot it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I can't do, Agnes, even to see the expansion of -Fraser. If you like to give me the room and a French -breakfast, with a very occasional egg when they are -good and cheap, for twelve shillings a week--why, then, -I'll take it gladly and pay a week in advance if I can -come in to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but, Miss Isla, I am not able yet to see properly -to things, and, as I say, I've naething but rubbitch in -the kitchen. Even at the very best, my hoose is not -what you hae been accustomed to, and I should never -hae an easy or a happy mind aboot ye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's sad, for I am going to be very easy and happy -about myself, dear soul. So, do say I may come in this -very afternoon. My things are all at the Euston Hotel, -and, of course, staying there is beyond my means altogether."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fraser sat back in her chair, and her face was -troubled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, of course, and welcome, my dear. But I am -wae for ye. And what is it ye think of tryin' to do? -Is it to go as a companion to an old leddy--or what? -There is so very little a leddy like you can do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I read an advertisement in the 'Morning Post' this -morning for a young person to take pet dogs for an airing -in the Park. My physical powers would be equal to -that, I believe, and it would not need much brain power -at least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes hardly even laughed at the suggestion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ken what I'm speakin' aboot, Miss Isla. I have -not kept an apartment hoose in London for seven years -for naething. The things I hae seen, they would fill a -book."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no doubt of it, but I'm not going to add to -your tragic reminiscences, Agnes. Fortune is now going -to begin to smile on me. Don't let us meet trouble -half-way, anyhow. We'll change the subject. Haven't you -anything to ask about your old friends and neighbours -in the Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dinna hear frae ony o' them noo, Miss Isla. Oot -o' sicht oot o' mind. Hoo's Elspeth Maclure, and has -she ony mair bairns?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None since the last," laughed Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And is her tongue ony quater? Eh, that lassie! -When we were neibours at Achree I tell ye she fair -deaved a body. You'll no mind--ye were young at the -time--that I had to ask the hoosekeeper to let me -sleep in anither room. Naebody could sleep wi' Elspeth. -She wud speak even in her sleep. We were a' sorry for -Maclure. But, of course, he was a quate man, or there -wad hae been ructions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla retailed a few items of Glenogle and Lochearn -gossip for Mrs. Fraser's benefit, and finally returned to -the subject of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can tak' ye doon to see it, Miss Isla. I was as far -as the dining-room yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla thanked her, and together they went down one -flight of stairs and entered a large, wide room with two -long windows looking out upon a microscopic back-yard, -in which was a solitary tree. Though it was little more -than noon the room was rather gloomy, and Agnes -pointed out that it was the projecting portions of the -neighbouring houses that darkened the windows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I get employment I shall be out most of the day, -and in the evenings I shall have a fire, and then it will -be quite cosy. So these are the Frenchman's pictures! -Why, some of them are very pretty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had done some sketches in water colour on the -panels of the door and also on the sides of the -mantel-piece; and, though the furniture was a little hopeless -and rather suggestive of the cheaper end of the Tottenham -Court Road, Isla was thankful to get it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Agnes Fraser felt a little despondent about it all -the afternoon, and when Fraser, who was steward at a -West-End club, came home at tea-time to see how she -was, he found that she had been crying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He also took a gloomy view of Miss Mackinnon's -venture into the unknown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's only her fad, Nance. And afore she has had -time to get tired o't or even to get a grup o' the rael -thing she'll rue it, or some o' them will come and tak' -her away. So let her come, and dinna you fash your -heid aboot her. Eh, woman, I'm gled to see ye in a -frock at last!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About six o'clock that evening a four-wheeler trundled -up to Mrs. Fraser's house in Cromer Street, and Isla -with all her belongings was admitted to her new quarters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She slept soundly that night, secure in the haven -found under the roof of an old friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Agnes herself, who knew the hardships of London -life and had very special knowledge of the extreme -difficulty the indigent gentlewoman experienced in -finding employment, never closed an eye.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-market-place"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE MARKET PLACE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That evening, over her fire in the room which Andrew -Fraser had christened "The Pictur Gallery," Isla took -stock of her marketable accomplishments with the -advertizing columns of the "Morning Post" and the "Daily -Telegraph" spread on the table in front of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had to confess that they were meagre both in -quality and quantity. She had been imperfectly -educated by a wholly incompetent woman, who had had to -combine in one the offices of governess, housekeeper, -and chaperon, and over whom for five years of the -General's absence in India there had been none to -exercise the slightest control.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Jean had offered to take the child to Barras to -bring her up with her own, but she had altogether -declined to have Malcolm even in the holidays. This had -so angered the General that he had answered in the -hot-headed Highland fashion that he would see to the -upbringing of both his children himself and would be -beholden to none.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That Isla had emerged from the process even as well -equipped as she was said a good deal for her intelligence -and native common sense. Her gifts of observation and -her love of books had helped her to bridge the gaps in -her educational training, but of the skilled attainments -that fetch money in the market place she possessed none -except the power to keep house with a good appearance -on very slender means.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She decided, as her eyes wandered restlessly down -those weary "Want" columns, that the only post she -was fit for was that of a housekeeper, for which there -was a limited demand. Many seemed to be in need of -skilled and highly-trained governesses at substantial -salaries, but against the unskilled all doors seemed to -be shut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more she perused the advertisement for a young -person to give pet dogs an airing, and she resolved that, -out of curiosity and as a preliminary canter into the -unknown, she would call at the address given. It was in -Westbourne Terrace, which, from inquiry, she learned was -in her own neighbourhood and could be reached on foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a little subdued when she arose next morning -to find "The Pictur Gallery" at eight o'clock in a sort of -twilight gloom consequent upon the rain and the fog -outside. After the glorious airs, the limitless freedom -of the Moor of Creagh it was an experience calculated -to damp the bravest spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had to ring three times before receiving the -smallest attention from the squint-eyed maid, and -Agnes, tired with the unexpected excitement of the -previous day, had not felt herself well enough to get up -before breakfast, as she had fully intended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Much ringing of bells, some altercations in the -passages, and a variety of odours were the outstanding -characteristics of the Cromer Street house in the early -morning hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a quarter past nine Isla's French breakfast was -brought up on a slatternly tray, and, finding it impossible -to drink the coffee, she had to ask--and she did so -in quite humble tones--for a fresh pot of tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ain't 'ad no borders about brekfus for 'The Pitcsher -Gallery,' Miss," quoth Arabella in a rather high and -mighty voice. "But I'll get the tea. It ain't all beer -and skittles 'ere of a mornin', I kin tell yer, wiv hall the -bells in the 'ouse a-ringin' at onct, the missus in 'er -bed, and ole Flatfeet on the warpath in the kitching."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the door had closed Isla sat down on the front -of her bed and laughed till the tears rolled down her -cheeks. The dreariness of the place in which she sat, -the dead ashes on the cold hearth, the indescribable -lack of the comforts--even of the decencies--of life -appalled her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet just in such conditions, and in others infinitely -worse, must thousands of Londoners awake to the duty -of each new day. She wondered that the multitude had -any heart for the day's work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not start to clean her room or light a fire, -and she had been reared in the belief that a bed required -a thorough airing before it could be made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After she had partaken of her meagre breakfast therefore -she opened the window and, donning her mackintosh -and heavy boots, prepared to sally forth. Even the -streets would be preferable to her present surroundings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She decided not to go up to see Agnes, who probably -felt the situation more acutely than she herself did. -Perhaps, after all, it might be better, if it was not indeed -absolutely necessary, that she should find some other -lodging in a smaller house, where she could have a -sitting-room and a bedroom. The prospect of unlimited -hours spent in "The Pictur Gallery" was a little -dismaying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rain was falling heavily when she left the house, -but the clean, sharp patter on the pavements, -somehow, cheered her. It was clean, it was wholesome, it -would help to wash away some of the impurity from -the streets. The rain, rolling in over the hills upon the -Moor of Creagh and sweeping down Glenogle--how often -had she welcomed its pure sting on her cheek and revelled -in it! But here all was depressing, dark, dismal, and -soul-crushing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In such mood did Isla arrive at the address in Westbourne -Terrace, which, in conjunction with three others, -she had written on a small piece of paper and placed in -her purse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man-servant, in a blue coat with brass buttons and -a striped waistcoat, opened the door and stood, obligingly -waiting to take her message.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have called in reference to the advertisement in -the 'Morning Post' this morning. Please, can I see the -lady of the house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked doubtful, but said politely in imperfect -English with a very German accent that if she would -come in and sit down in the hall he would inquire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment the door of the breakfast-room at the -end of the hall was opened and a lady in a very elaborate -morning robe much trimmed with lace and with two -black-and-white Japanese spaniels in her arms, looked out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is that, Fritz?" she asked in a high and rather -fretful voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pleas'm, a young lady about the advertisement in -the paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she can come in here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She re-entered the breakfast-room, and Isla, in some -inward amusement, followed. She felt like a person in -a play, but it said something for her courage and -determination that, on the second morning of her London life, -she should seek such an experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She closed the door behind her and said good morning -to the lady, altogether unconscious that, instead of -looking like a suppliant, she had the air of one about to -bestow a favour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her possible employer was a woman of about her own -age, with a kind of artificial prettiness which depended -a good deal on art for its preservation. She had a -pleasant enough manner, however, and was quite civil -to her visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have called?" she said inquiringly, with her -head on one side like a bird and her cheek against the -glossy coat of one of the spaniels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have called in reference to the advertisement in the -'Morning Post,'" said Isla with difficulty, for the reality, -instead of being amusing, was distinctly trying. "But -I don't think it will be any use. I am sure I would not -be suitable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, sit down, and let us talk it over now that you are -here," said the lady affably. "I am Madame Schultze. -Yes--I am English. My husband is a Viennese. He is -on the Stock Exchange. He had only just left the house -as you entered. Perhaps you saw him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla said she had not seen anybody resembling Mr. Schultze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not strong, and almost immediately I am going -off with my husband to Schwalbach. It is very late in -the year for Schwalbach, but he has not been able to get -away before now. It is about my little darlings! Look -at them! Aren't they sweet loves? This is Koshimo, -and this is Sada, and this is Tito, and the little one, who -was born here, is Babs. Did you ever see anything so -perfectly sweet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was at a loss what to say. She knew nothing of -the cult of pet dogs, or of how enslaved an idle woman -can become by them, and she thought the adoration -visible in Madame Schultze's eyes was rather foolish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were four separate baskets lined with padded -wool, with little rugs over them, and other comforts such -as many a poor baby lacked. To Isla the creatures -looked stolid, overfed, unintelligent, and uninteresting. -But she could not say so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose they are very valuable?" was all she -could bring herself to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should say so. Koshimo, as a puppy, cost a -hundred and fifty guineas. My Karl gave him to me -on the anniversary of our wedding. We can't take -them to Schwalbach with us, and the other person I had -to look after them was a wretch. Behind my back she -used to pinch Koshimo, and the poor darling's spirit is -quite broken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet you are going to leave them behind in the care -of--of the person you engage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what I thought of doing. I have no -alternative. They don't permit dogs at the Cure Hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then would she be required to live in the house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no--only to come for a half-day every morning. -Sundays included, to bathe the darlings, make their -toilets, and take them for a walk in the Park. After -that they will be in the care of Fritz, the house-boy, -who is quite good. Only he has not a woman's -delicacy of touch and sympathy. They need sympathy -quite as much as a human being does, if not more so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla repressed an almost overpowering desire to laugh -aloud, and she politely inquired what would be the -remuneration for this occupation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Seven-and-sixpence a week and luncheon. I reckoned -that by the time you had returned from the Park it -would be one or half-past one, and the servants' dinner -would be going on, so that your luncheon would never -be missed," said Madame Schultze with an engaging -frankness. "Of course, the work is not hard, and it is -delightful, besides. You don't know what a privilege -it is to have the care of such pets. They are so dainty -and so very, very human."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla thanked her and said that she was afraid the post -would not suit her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but why not come for a few days and try it?" -said the odd woman, who had taken a fancy to Isla. -"You look different from the creatures who usually call -when one wants anybody. You look even as if you -might have had pet dogs of your own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something caught at Isla's throat as she remembered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have had them. But, thank you, I'm sorry I can't -come. The--the money is much too small. I shall -have to find something to do which will keep me. I am -not well off. Good morning, Madame Schultze."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You won't leave your name? I might find you -something. My husband has a large acquaintance on -the Stock Exchange, and we move in very good society," -said Madame Schultze with a kind of indolent good-humour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Isla, with another hasty word of thanks, withdrew. -She felt almost hysterical as the door was politely closed -upon her by the foreign butler, and she dashed something -like a tear from her eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Serves you right, Isla Mackinnon, for all the airs -you give yourself! Seven-and-six a week and the -servants' luncheon! What would they say at home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She said "they," but it was the face of Peter Rosmead -that came persistently before her--of Peter the -Bridge-builder, with thousands in his pocket that he could not -spend! Would Peter, if he met her in the park airing -pet dogs for a livelihood, pass by, like a Levite, on the -other side?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her lip curled whimsically at the thought. She did -not welcome the memory of Rosmead, which had come -unsought. In her secret heart she felt disappointed -that he had not written. True, he had not promised to -do so, nor had he even asked whether he might. But -other men did not wait for permission. Neil Drummond -never lost an opportunity of speaking or writing to her, -and often she did not trouble to read his letters through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was brought back from her reveries sharply by -finding herself once more in the Bayswater Road with -the rest of the day in front of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do want a good breakfast," she said to herself -dolefully, for a few mouthfuls of the doubtful bread and -butter provided by Arabella had more than satisfied her -in "The Pictur Gallery".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Looking down the road towards Kensington, she saw -that shops seemed to abound, and she proceeded to -walk on. At length she came to a tea-shop, which she -entered. There she ordered tea and a couple of poached -eggs. These she consumed at a small round table drawn -invitingly near a bright fire, where she was able to dry -her boots and where she passed a very comfortable half-hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was all unreal. Once more she had the weird -feeling that she was a character in a play and that she -would soon awaken to the reality of things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After her experience in Westbourne Terrace she -decided that, instead of calling at any more private -addresses, she would go to some of the employment agents, -who, judging from their advertisements, seemed to -possess particulars of every conceivable kind of opening. -She would there give a true account of her meagre -accomplishments and candidly inquire what was their -market value.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not shrink from doing this, because all her -life long she had been facing things and making the -best of untoward circumstances. But, somehow, it was -difficult here in London. In Glenogle all was familiar -and most dear. Besides, whatever the state of the -exchequer, Miss Mackinnon of Achree had an unassailable -position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her name counted for nothing here, however. Nay, -it were better perhaps that she should exchange it for -one less pretentious and betraying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rain having ceased, she rode on the top of an -omnibus the whole length of the Bayswater Road to -Oxford Street, where she presented herself in the office -of one of the well-known employment agencies that -advertise extensively in all the newspapers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had to wait some little time among others, and -when her turn came she was again in thrall to the odd -feeling of unreality which had possessed her for most of -the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What kind of post, madam, and what experience?" -said the very middle-aged lady who sat, pen in hand, -ready to take the particulars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla explained as clearly as possible what she wanted, -and she did not fail to observe that while she was -speaking the face of her questioner fell. While she was -listening she was, however, observing Isla keenly, and -she very quickly came to the conclusion that she was -not one of the ordinary applicants, but rather was one -who had been driven into the ranks of the workers by -stress of circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, madam," she said kindly but with great -brevity and decision, "you are not unaware that you are -handicapped? Our books"--here she patted an -immense ledger lying on the table beside her--"our -books are full of names of ladies requiring employment, -and most of these are very thoroughly equipped. -But, even with all the resources at our command, we -would never be able to supply all their wants, for the -very simple reason that the necessary vacancies do not -exist."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are so many thousands seeking situations, -then?" said Isla hesitatingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thousands. We have no difficulty with our skilled -workers. There is always a demand for them, but for -the gentlewoman class--to which you evidently -belong--for whom the earning of a living has become a sad -necessity, we have practically no demand. You are a -good housekeeper, you say, but you would not care to -take a working-housekeeper's place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not. At least, I should not care to do actual -housework, and I can only cook theoretically. I could -order a lady's house, and order it well. I've been used -until quite lately to superintend a fairly large -establishment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In your father's house?" said the agent with an -understanding nod.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought as much. Well, I have only one post on -my books at present which would seem to come -anywhere near your requirements, and I tell you quite -frankly that I have already sent at least half a dozen -ladies after it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is it?" asked Isla interestedly, "and what sort -of a place is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is to be a sort of companion-housekeeper to a lady -who is not strong. The duties, I think, are not very -arduous, but I consider it only right to tell you that this -is the fourth time in twelve months that this post has -become vacant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why has it been like that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I prefer not to enter into reasons. There have -always been faults on both sides, of course. I have -myself interviewed Mrs. Bodley-Chard here when she was -able to drive out. Latterly, I think, she has not been -able. I have always liked her. I'm afraid that the -trouble is with Mr. Bodley-Chard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I shouldn't mind him," said Isla quietly. "And, -after all, his wife's housekeeper need not see much of -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The agent smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can give you the address if you like. You will -be the third who has gone to-day. But that, I think, -does not matter. Mrs. Chard, I know, intends to be -very, very particular this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the salary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty-five pounds a year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And to live in the house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She would not engage a person who wished to lodge -outside?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear madam, picture a companion-housekeeper -who arrived with the milk--shall we say?--and left with -the last post at night! It's unpractical, to say the least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla smiled and sighed a little as she rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see that beggars can't be choosers and that one -must give up something in order to earn one's living. -I wish, however, that it was not one's freedom. May I -have the address, if you really think there is the -smallest use in my calling?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure that it is worth your while calling. I -have even a sort of odd feeling that Mrs. Chard's choice -might fall on you. You see, you are just a little -different from the average run of reduced ladies who come -here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," said Isla, not knowing whether to take -the words as a compliment or the reverse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The agent wrote the name and address on one of the -office cards and then noted Isla's in her book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what happens if I am engaged?" she asked -with a little humorous smile about her mouth. "Is it -like a servants' registry office? Do I come back and -pay a fee, or do I pay it now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fee would be half a sovereign in this case--that -is if you are engaged. There is no charge otherwise. -I hope you will be successful, Miss Mackinnon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know whether I hope so or not," answered Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her ease of manner, so different from the usual bearing -of the agent's clients, made a strong impression on her -listener.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be pleased to see you in any case. And -perhaps something else may turn up, if you are not -successful," she said with a cordiality which surprised -even herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Usually the seekers after employment were merely -units of the system to be dismissed as soon as possible. -But this applicant had drawn out her interest and her -sympathy in a very strong degree, principally because -she had not proffered a single plea for special -consideration, and because she had been so candid about her -capabilities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Isla got outside she stopped on the stairs and -read the name and address on the agent's -card--Mrs. Bodley-Chard, Hans Crescent, S.W.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A look of satisfaction crossed her face just for a -moment, because this locality was within that part of -the area of London with which she was perfectly familiar. -As Malcolm might have said, it was on the right side of -the Park. But again, that had its disadvantages, one -of them being that she might be more easily discovered -and recognized.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But some instinct made her decide to go, and to go -as quickly as possible. She hailed a passing hansom -and got in, calculating that she would reach Hans -Crescent in time to catch Mrs. Bodley-Chard immediately -after luncheon.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mr-and-mrs-bodley-chard"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">MR. AND MRS. BODLEY-CHARD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Isla was familiar with the outward aspect of the pretty -houses in Hans Crescent, and she had on more than -one occasion, in the company of her aunt, made -acquaintance with the interior of one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The town house of the Murdoch-Graemes of Baltasound -was in Hans Crescent, but they, too, were poor and, until -their daughter married a rich financier, had not been -able to occupy their London house in the season.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there is a vast difference between fashionable -London in May or June and in October. More than the half -of the houses are shut up in the late autumn, and Isla -had no fear of meeting anyone who would recognize her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hansom drew up, jingling, at the door of one of -the most important houses, beautifully appointed -outside, with real lace curtains at the windows and with -everything indicating ample means. A sedate, -middle-aged manservant of irreproachable mien noiselessly -opened the door and stood at attention to hear Isla's -message.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bodley-Chard is at home, Miss, but she only -sees callers by appointment," he said civilly, but firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please to take my name," said Isla quietly, "and tell -her I have come from Madame Vibert in Oxford Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There have been three already this morning, and -my mistress has told me she will not see any more. -She lies down after luncheon. Still, Miss, I can tell her -you are here if you will kindly step in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was grateful, and the respectful manner of the -man was like balm to her perturbed spirit. Here she -felt at home, and beyond doubt the man knew--for the -preceptions of his class are very keen in certain -directions--that she differed in almost every essential from -those who had come before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He placed a chair for her by the fireplace in the pretty -lounge-hall and departed upstairs. Isla glanced round -her interestedly. The house was very bright, painted in -white with warm crimson walls, and full of pretty things. -It was all very modern, however, and a trifle fantastic. -A very large brown bear, mounted on a pedestal and -standing up with a pole between his forepaws, struck -rather a grotesque note. It was neither a useful nor an -ornamental object, and it was instantly banned by Isla's -simple, correct taste. The pictures, of which there were -many, all struck the same bold note of bizarre taste, and -the effect was neither restful nor pleasing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was not kept waiting long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bodley-Chard will see you," said the man when -he re-appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She followed him up the white and crimson staircase, -her feet giving forth no sound in the deep, luxurious -tread of the Axminster carpet. The house seemed to -widen out on the upper landing and gave an impression -of roominess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The servant opened a door a little way along the -corridor and announced Isla by name. She was ushered -into a room in semi-darkness--a sort of boudoir, luxuriously -furnished, whose atmosphere was laden with perfume -and with the heavy odour of many cut flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A smart French maid with a most coquettish cap -moved back from the side of a large couch when the -door opened, and as she stepped out of the room she -took a very keen look at Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A voice came out of the gloom--a somewhat thin, -fretful voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come forward, please, to where I can see you. You -have called at a very awkward hour. I expressly wrote -to Madame Vibert that I would not see anyone after -lunch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can easily go away, madam, and call at a more -convenient season," said Isla quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes, becoming accustomed to the half-light, now -discerned quite clearly on the couch the figure of a -middle-aged woman, half-sitting, with a silk shawl about -her shoulders, and a trifle of lace--a so-called boudoir -cap--resting on her elaborately dressed hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring a chair forward and sit down. I'm not strong. -I am obliged to lie down all the afternoon. Did Madame -Vibert tell you what I really required? She keeps -sending me the most tiresome and impossible people--fools, -in fact. Are you a fool? Come and tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla carried over one of the gilt-brocade chairs, -thinking at the same time that it was a little service the -French maid ought to have rendered to a caller before -she left the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see you very well. Will you ring for Fifine -to draw up one of the blinds a little?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can do it myself," said Isla promptly, "if you will -tell me which one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bodley-Chard indicated the window at the end of -the room, and Isla very quickly caused a little light to -shine in the darkness. The trim lines of her figure -were silhouetted against the clear glass of the window, -and Mrs. Bodley-Chard looked keenly at her face, when -she came back, to see whether it corresponded with the -distinction of the figure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are different. Sit down and tell me what that -viper, Madame Vibert, told you about me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She told me very, very little indeed, Mrs. Chard. -Only that you wished a sort of companion-housekeeper. -I could act as that, I think, though Madame Vibert as -good as told me this morning I had no market value."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla had no hesitation in making this damaging -statement. As yet she was only at play. In her purse she -had sixteen pounds of good money, which, she had -calculated, would keep her in modest comfort at Agnes -Fraser's for at least two months. And surely in the -course of two months among all the teeming millions of -London she would find something to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Chard gave a small, hard laugh. She had a -large, uninteresting face with the unhealthy colour of -the woman who takes very little outdoor exercise, and -there was a lassitude about her which seemed to Isla to -arise from lack of will-power rather than from lack of -physical health.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is what I do want--a common-sense woman in -the house who can hold her tongue and keep her eyes -on two places at once. I'm being robbed on every side. -The only decent person in the house is the butler -Robbins. Madame Vibert has sent me nothing but fools, -who were either afraid of the servants or in league with -them. Have you been out before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you come from?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From Scotland. My father died a few months ago, -and I have been left without resources."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father?--oh, he was a soldier."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What rank?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla hesitated a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was a General," she said in a low voice then, as -if afraid the fact would militate against her chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not surprised. You look as if you might be a -General's daughter. Well, then, you don't need to have -your duties defined to you. You will have to keep the -house--to run it, in fact--pay the servants' wages and -prevent them from worrying me. You will write any -letters I want, and you will drive out with me when I -do go out, but that won't be often now that the winter -is coming on. Then, you will have to dine with -Mr. Bodley-Chard in the evening and keep him amused -when he is in the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Isla with a small gasp, "will you tell -me quite what that means?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It means just what it says," answered Mrs. Chard -with her wandering, somewhat stupid smile. "It is -slow for him at home, of course, for I am hardly ever -able to be down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you been out of health a long while?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes--about two years now. I have got worse in the -last six months. Perhaps I shall not live long. I don't -mind. I haven't had much happiness. People soon -get tired of a dull old woman, don't they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why be dull?" asked Isla cheerfully. "You -have the means of making life pleasant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But there is nobody to care, you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla wondered about Mr. Bodley-Chard, but she did -not ask any questions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt sorry for the woman who, in the midst of her -luxurious surroundings, looked like a person from whom -all the zest for life had departed, leaving her with a -withered heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One thing interested her--she felt that she would like -to see Mr. Bodley-Chard, possibly because in him might -be found a partial solution of the problem of the -heaviness of his wife's life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, will you come? No--I don't want to ask any -questions. Either you're the right person or the wrong -one. All the others I've ever engaged have been the -wrong ones, and, somehow, I knew it before they began -their duties. I believe you are going to be the right -one. Will you take it on?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, if you think I can do what you require."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure you can. It ought not to be hard. When -I was able to be about I had no difficulty in managing -my house. But a fool can't manage servants. That's -the chief difficulty--to keep them in their place. And -you look as if you could do that. Can you come to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to-day. To-morrow I might. May I ask you -another question? It is about dress. I have only one -evening frock. It is old and very shabby. Should I -be expected to go down to dinner every night in an -evening frock? That is the only thing I can't be happy -about. If I could only have my evenings free!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have a good many of them free, because -Mr. Bodley-Chard is a club-man and is fond of the -theatre. Most of them have complained of the deadly -dulness. I go to sleep early, you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall come to-morrow afternoon, then," said Isla, -rising.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did so, for she saw that a drowsiness was creeping -over Mrs. Chard and that the heavy white lids were -drooping over the dull eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The impression Isla carried away was one of hopelessness, -of absolute lack of interest in life on the part of her -future employer. She was not attractive physically, yet -there was something kindly and pitiful about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she left the room Isla registered a vow that she -would do what she could to arouse her and to give her -some fresh interest in life. Probably Mrs. Chard had a -doctor--that kind of woman always had a fashionable -physician in close attendance. Perhaps he and she -could consult together and devise some remedial -measure. The prospect of grappling with a fresh -difficulty exhilarated her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she closed the door she was surprised to see -Fifine, the French maid, unconcernedly walk away from -it as though she had been listening. She turned quite -coolly to Isla, and put her head on one side, while her -small, pretty hands met in front of her dainty person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you got ze job, Mees?" she asked pertly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla coloured, looked very straightly and haughtily at -her, and passed her by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An English servant would have fully understood the -rebuke, and even Fifine knew that she had been put in her -proper place. She shook her small fist after the retreating -figure on the stairs, and from that moment Isla had -an enemy in the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when she -got back to Cromer Street, where she found Agnes Fraser -in some perturbation regarding her long absence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes was now fully dressed in her neat black frock -with the little Puritan collar, and the whole house -looked more comfortable and better cared for. Isla -forgot the abomination of desolation that had reigned -in the morning, and she greeted Agnes with a gay smile -as she came out of the dining-room to meet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so glad to see you down, Agnes. Where have I -been? Oh, in search of adventure. Where can we sit -down till I tell you all about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Frasers chiefly occupied a very small -breakfast-room at the back--a place which seldom got the sun, -but which looked cosy enough on a dull afternoon, with -a cheerful fire in the grate and a tea-tray on the end of -the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, but I'm tired, Miss Isla. I've been in the -kitchen since eleven o'clock. What a place! But I've -set them to clean up and, now that I'll be up in the -mornin's mysel' things will get a' richt. I was fair upset -when I heard ye had gane oot so early this mornin' and -withoot a proper breakfast. Hae ye had onything to -eat since?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla explained so gaily that Agnes concluded that she -must have had some good luck. When she heard the -story of the morning she uplifted her hands in sheer -astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The thing that beats me is that ye should hae got -something so quick, Miss Isla. I've had them here -lookin' for weeks, and weeks, and weeks. It's a sad -business, but I hope thae folk wi' the queer name will -be a' richt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They interest me, and I'm not in the least afraid. -No, there aren't any dark mysteries, I'm sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, but London's a michty queer place, Miss Isla, -and ye never ken wha's your next-door neibour. But ye -can aye--day or nicht--tak' a hansom and come ower -to me, if onything gangs wrang. I'll no let 'The Pictur -Gallery' the noo. Very likely I'll no hae the chance -till after Christmas. So if ye like to leave onything in -it ye can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had a long cosy chat over their tea. Then Isla -retired to "The Pictur Gallery" to make a fresh -inventory of her clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found that the room had been swept and garnished, -and a cheerful fire relieved its gloom, with the result -that all things, even "The Pictur Gallery," contributed -to her hopeful mood. She was promising herself no -end of amusement and interest in her new environment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt very much as a child might who is about to -be taken to a pantomime for the first time; and certainly -she was quite lifted up beyond all the more sordid and -disagreeable aspects of her own private life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the good Agnes was conscious of sundry misgivings -when she bade Isla good-bye about four o'clock -next afternoon and saw the cab roll away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll promise noo, Miss Isla, that if there's -onything wrang, or onything even that ye dinna like, that -ye'll come richt back. I canna say I'm as comfortable -in my mind aboot ye as I micht be. I wakened Andra -up in the nicht-time to tell him I wasna."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, Agnes. It's just because you've grown -accustomed to thinking of me in different circumstances -that you are anxious about me. I'm going to enjoy -myself immensely and see a bit of life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you'll write to them, Miss Isla--either to -Mr. Malcolm or to Lady Mackinnon? I want them to ken -where you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I don't. I'll write and give them your address, -but I forbid you to breathe the name of Hans Crescent. -Besides, I should certainly be dismissed if a horde of -my folk appeared at Mrs. Bodley-Chard's," she added -with a little whimsical smile. "I didn't ask, but I feel -sure that no followers would be allowed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes was left with a smile on her face, but it faded -before she had watched the four-wheeler out at the end -of the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Puir thing! She disna ken a thing aboot life! I -hope the Lord will look after her. Naebody else can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla had no misgivings when she arrived at her -destination. She was received with respectful -consideration by Robbins, who passed her on to a -house-maid who, with a polite but distant air showed her -to her room. It was on the third floor, but it was a -large and beautiful chamber, with which even the most -fastidious person could not have found a single fault.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bodley-Chard has waited tea for you in the -boudoir, Miss," said the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you; and may I ask your name? We shall -probably have to see a good deal of each other, so we -may as well be friendly. I am Miss Mackinnon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm Cecilia Owen. I'm called Owen upstairs and -Cissy in the kitchen," answered the girl, surprised into -cordiality of tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And which do you prefer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mind. I shall like whatever you call me, Miss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we shall say Cissy. In the country--where -I come from--we don't call our women-servants by their -surnames," said Isla pleasantly as she laid her gloves -down and poured out some water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll get you some hot, Miss, and if you like I'll -unpack after tea downstairs. I'd like to help you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, in spite of much warning, Cissy capitulated to the -newcomer's undoubted personal charm, and from that -moment she was Isla's faithful ally and friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she descended the stair Isla met the French maid, -and wished her a cool good-afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're waiting tea now, mees; please to hurry," -she said pertly, and Isla passed on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found the door without mistake, tapped lightly, -and entered by invitation of Mrs. Bodley-Chard's thin, -reedy voice, which seemed very weak to proceed from -such a substantial body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her chagrin there was some one else in the room--a -youngish man, dressed in a lounge suit of blue serge. -He had a slim figure, very dark hair and eyes, and a -rather florid complexion. A large moustache, very -carefully trimmed, was evidently his pride. He was -good-looking after his type, but that was a type which -Isla did not admire. He had a gardenia in his button-hole, -and the impression created was that of a dandy -who gave much consideration to his clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She concluded he was some privileged caller who had -dropped in, and, without noticing him, she made her -way to Mrs. Chard's couch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you have arrived? Glad to see you, Miss -Mackinnon. Let me introduce my husband. Gerald, -this is Miss Mackinnon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla gave a start of extreme surprise as she hastily -turned to receive Mr. Bodley-Chard's greeting. It was -a painful surprise, because the man looked almost -young enough to be the son of the woman on the sofa, -and the disparity between them in almost every respect -seemed in her eyes almost insurmountable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Bodley-Chard was most affable, even complimentary, -and in that first interview Isla conceived a -dislike of him, which was destined to increase with every -opportunity she had of seeing more of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Mackinnon will pour out the tea, Edgar," said -his wife. "She may as well start right now. Come -here, and sit by me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right you are, old lady. See how I am kept in -leading-strings, Miss Mackinnon," he said, smiling all -over his smooth-featured face. "I came home from -business an hour earlier than usual this afternoon just -on purpose to receive you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was unnecessary," said Isla quite coolly. "Can -I get you another cushion, Mrs. Chard? You don't -seem to sit very comfortably. I have been used to -waiting on an invalid. Do let me help you before I -make tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her deft and willing left arm went round Mrs. Chard's -shoulders and raised her up a bit. She then shook the -cushions, and made her as comfortable as she could, -Mr. Chard looking on approvingly the while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're in luck this time, Jenny. Among all the -fools you have had there wasn't one who had the art of -making you really comfortable--eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Chard smiled, and her eyes gratefully followed -the girl's slim figure back to the tea-table. The -discontented, uneasy expression had died out of her eyes, -giving place to one of peace, which imparted an -unexpected charm to her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, quite unconscious of the favourable impression -she was creating, and only wishing with all her heart -that Mr. Chard would make himself scarce, busied -herself about her new duties, and, when there was likely to -be silence, made small talk with an ease that surprised -herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Chard was evidently extremely anxious to hear -her talk, and it was he who put the questions. But -Isla only answered such as she chose, and, at the end -of twenty minutes, she left him very much where he -was at the beginning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her coolness and cleverness piqued him. He had -been accustomed to see his wife's companions shrink -before him and efface themselves in his presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old lady doesn't allow me a whiff here, Miss -Mackinnon. Hard lines, don't you think? Much as I -should like to stop, I must tear myself away. We shall -meet at dinner later on, I hope, and resume our -interesting conversation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla bowed slightly, and when the door closed she -rose and came over to the side of the couch, where -Mrs. Chard sat smiling happily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't think how glad I am that you have come," -she said, putting out an impulsive hand. "I woke up -this morning wondering what pleasant thing was going -to happen, and then I remembered that it was your coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are very kind to speak like that. I hope I may -be going to be of use to you. That is the only excuse -for my presence here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well that is a speech! Most of them have come to -serve their own ends, and--would you believe it, Miss -Mackinnon?--though this is my house, and all that it -contains is mine, I have sometimes felt among them all -that I hadn't a single friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be your friend while I am here," said Isla -quite simply, and without the smallest intention of -gushing or flattering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her surprise a small sob suddenly broke from the -lips of the woman on the couch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't pray much or often to God, my dear, but I -do believe that He has sent you to me this time. There -is a clear light about you--it shines in your eyes. -I am sure that you are true and good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I try to be. But now you must rest a little, and -later on I'll come and get you ready to go down to -dinner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but, my dear, I don't go down. They haven't -laid a place for me for months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But they'll lay one for you to-night, or I shall dine -here with you," said Isla quite quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not add that nothing on earth would induce -her to dine </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with Mr. Bodley-Chard.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="at-cross-purposes"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">AT CROSS PURPOSES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Isla did not see her employer till ten o'clock next -morning, by which time she had breakfasted </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> -with Mr. Bodley-Chard. When she was asked to go to -Mrs. Chard's room the expression of her face indicated -that she had not had a pleasant morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Chard was not yet out of her bedroom, which -communicated with the boudoir by folding-doors. She -was lying down, but her pale face brightened at sight -of Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, dear. I wanted to see you ever so -long ago, but Edgar said you had not time to come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Isla stiffly, "I did not know you wanted -me, or I should have been here sooner. I hope you -slept well and feel better this morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sleep too much, I think," she said with a weary -yawn. "I was asleep by half-past nine last night, and -I'm not long awake. Yes--I've had breakfast, all I ever -do take. Sit down, and tell me what you have been -about. Did you have a comfortable night, and did they -get you all you wanted?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything. My wants are simple, and I can -help myself. The housemaid is very kind and -attentive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you gave Edgar his breakfast? I hope you -enjoyed that. Isn't he charming? And I must tell you -a great secret. He is charmed with you. I am so glad, -because I've had such trouble with my lady-housekeepers. -Either they could not get on with my husband, -or they wanted to be with him too much. Women are -so tiresome and so catty to one another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla repressed an inordinate desire to laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me what you talked about, won't you?" Mrs. Chard -continued. "It's being kept in the dark in my -own house that I hate so much. It isn't fair--do you -think it is? For, after all, though I am not strong I do -take an interest in things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't say much. Mr. Chard talked a good -deal--principally about you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed; and what did he say? Told you all -sorts of naughty things, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The spectacle of this elderly woman waxing coquettish -on the subject of her husband filled Isla with a curious -mixture of pity and amusement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. He was chiefly trying to impress on me the -fact that you are very ill and that you require to be -kept quiet and not worried in the least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Edgar! he is most considerate! He quite -spoils me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was very much surprised to hear that you had no -doctor in attendance, Mrs. Bodley-Chard. Wouldn't -it be better for you to see some one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bodley-Chard uplifted her hands in mute protest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doctors! I've spent fortunes on them, and they've -never done me the smallest good. The last one I -had--a man from Mount Street, a very new broom who -was going to sweep the West End quite clean--quarrelled -with Edgar. What do you think? He actually had -the audacity to say that there was nothing whatever -the matter with me and that, if I were a poor woman -who had to get my living, I should be going about -quite well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla privately wished she knew that doctor. She felt -sure that she should like him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But perhaps, though he need not have put it so -harshly, there was a grain of truth in what he said, and -at least it was an honest expression of opinion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Edgar was furious and kicked him out of the house--not -actually, you know, but he told him very plainly -what he thought of him. They had a frightful row, -and he said all sorts of things to Edgar--impertinent, -even libellous things. Poor dear, he was very good -about it, and, for my sake, took no further steps against -Dr. Stephens, because he did not wish me to be -worried."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And since then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since then I haven't had anybody, and I'm just as -well without anybody. Edgar is very clever. He -studied medicine for a time before he went on the Stock -Exchange, and I believe that it was because Stephens -found that he knew a little too much that they quarrelled -as they did. Edgar gives me all the medicine I need, -which isn't much--chiefly, sleeping-draughts. I used -to have such dreadful nights before he took me in hand. -Fancy! Dr. Stephens wanted to stop the sleeping-draughts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't wonder at that," said Isla quickly. "I -should like to stop them, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd never be so cruel. Nobody would. Why, they -are my greatest comfort. I suffer so with my head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it is very dangerous to use them, as you do, -without proper medical supervision."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, you see, I have medical supervision. My -husband quite understands all about them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very dangerous," asserted Isla firmly, "and I -am surprised that Mr. Bodley-Chard does not see it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, now you are going to be cross and horrid, just -as my first husband used to be. He hated ill-health. -He was one of those great big, overpowering sort of men -who never have a day's illness in their lives. But he -dropped down dead suddenly one day when we were -lunching in the city together. Oh, it was dreadful! I -can never forget Edgar's kindness at that time. He was -Mr. Bodley's chief clerk and understood all his business. -So, you see, when I married him it made everything -very easy. I have not the smallest trouble about money -now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla listened to all this with very mixed feelings, and -she tried to be just in her judgment of Mr. Bodley-Chard. -But she found that the most difficult of all the tasks set -her at Hans Crescent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tried to change the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a beautiful morning, Mrs. Chard. Won't you -let me help you to dress so that we may get out in the -sunshine? Have you a carriage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not now. We simply job one at Burdett's. But I -don't want to go out, thank you. Edgar is so afraid of -a chill for me. We are very happy, Miss Mackinnon," -she said with a small touch of dull defiance in her -heavy eyes. "In spite of the ten years' difference in -our ages, I could not have a more devoted husband. -Mr. Bodley was so different! He was the sort of man -who makes people run about for him, and he used to -shout at the servants dreadfully. Not but what he was -kind enough and generous enough, too, in his way. But -he had not dear Edgar's delicacy of feeling. He is never -cross, however put out he may be. He says that a -gentleman's first duty is to control his temper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla listened to this eulogy wholly unmoved. She had -by this time arrived at the conclusion that Mrs. Bodley-Chard's -mental faculties were impaired by bodily weakness -and by indulgence in some form of narcotic. She -made up her mind very quietly to do what she could -to combat the unwholesome forces which surrounded -this woman's life, and already she had vague ideas of -her plan of campaign. If only she could persuade -Mrs. Chard to call in that Mount Street doctor, between -them they might manage to bring her back to the plane -of active, healthy life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's practised eye told her that there was no actual -disease, but that her hypochondriacal weakness had -been so pandered to that she had completely lost her -will-power. It was a sad spectacle, and Isla rose with -courage to the idea of working some improvement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She must go warily, however, realizing the fact that -she had much prejudice to overcome. With Mr. Bodley-Chard's -opinion or attitude in the matter she did not -concern herself. She was his wife's servant, and she -would do her duty by her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's introduction to this domestic drama was the -very best thing that could have happened to her just -then. She threw herself heart and soul into it with all -the ardour of her Celtic temperament; only she was -liable to err in the haste and impulsiveness with which -she desired to act.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you won't go out to-day?" she said coaxingly--"not -even after I have been out and reported on the -sunshine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to-day--another day perhaps, and if Edgar -likes the idea we could all have a little drive together. -I'm going to sleep again now. Did you ever see such a -sleepy-head?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla had her own thoughts as she left the room to -interview the cook and to take up her position definitely -in the household. That part of her business presented -no difficulties whatever. The one thing that filled her -with misgiving was the physical and mental condition -of Mrs. Bodley-Chard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her dislike of the husband had increased after her -conversation with him at the breakfast table. He had -started by being complimentary and charming, but, -finding Isla unresponsive, had then spoken rather -disagreeably about her position in the household, warning -her quite pointedly that Mrs. Bodley-Chard was in the -hands of a capable maid who understood her temperament -and who would not brook any interference from -outside. Isla listened in silence, and, remembering her -impression of Fifine, felt her pity for Mrs. Chard -increase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having reduced the new inmate of the house to silence -and--as he thought--submission, Mr. Bodley-Chard -departed airily to the city to forget all about his wife. -For the first time, however, since he had become a -pensioner on a rich woman's bounty he was to find himself -weighed in the balance and found wanting. Isla's eyes -had a disconcerting clearness, and her recent experiences -had made her suspicious and critical of all mankind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found that her duties in the house were by no -means heavy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a sufficient staff of servants to do the work -properly, though they wanted careful handling. Isla's -gift in that direction was a special one. She had that -nice mixture of friendliness and hauteur which made -its due impression on the women of a household which -had never had a proper mistress. When they found -that Miss Mackinnon knew her business, and that she -intended that they should know theirs, too, they -submitted with a very fair grace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were five servants in the house besides the -French maid. Fifine was Isla's only failure, and before -she had been a week in the house she was obliged to -conclude that the Frenchwoman was Mr. Bodley-Chard's -ally, working with him to keep his wife in a state of -bodily helplessness and mental confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On Sunday afternoon she walked across the Park in -the cool autumn wind to tell Agnes Fraser some of her -experiences. She found that good lady much perturbed -by a letter which she had received from Elspeth -Maclure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Read that, Miss Isla, and tell me what to say when -I write back. It's maistly aboot you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sat down and took out Elspeth's rather badly -written sheet, while Agnes critically regarded her and -was obliged to admit that she looked better than when -she had left her house four days before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth wrote without embroidery to her old neighbour -of her own concerns and of the things that were -happening in the Glen:--</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"DARRACH, LOCHEARNHEAD, 18 </span><em class="italics">October</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"DEAR NANCE,--It's ages since onybody has heard -from you, but I must write, for things are that queer -here that you would hardly ken the Glen. I suppose -you have heard about the American folk in Achree. -There's naething the matter with them, and some of us -wish that they were there for good and that we had no -other Laird. We were to leave at Martinmas, but -Donald has gotten round the Laird to let him stop -another year at a higher rent. That will give us time -to look about. But, as I said to Miss Isla, my man will -never leave Darrach and live. He'll be found in the -Loch afore the day comes, or else dee of a broken hert -in the bed where he was born. Miss Isla has gone -away from the Glen, but maybe you have seen her. -She seemed to forget all about us lately, but the poor -lassie's head must be near turned with all the trouble -of Achree. They're saying in the Glen that her and the -Laird had words before she left and even that he doesn't -know now where she is. Some say she has gone away -to foreign parts to Lady Mackinnon, and then, again, -there's some say naebody kens where she is. It's a -terible business anyway, and if you have seen or heard -tell of her I wish you would write and let us know, for -there's a heap of folk in the glens that are not easy in -their minds about it. They're saying, to, that the Laird -is after one of the Miss Rosmeads--the one that -divorced her man in America, but that there's -somebody else has a grip of him. There was a woman -stopping at the Strathyre Hotel. William Thorn that is -the Boots there told Donald about her the other day. -And it seems that she talked a lot about the Laird and -about what would happen if he sought to marry Mrs. Rodney -Payne. Then, quite suddenly--I believe it was -the very night before Miss Isla went away--he went to -Strathyre and saw her. They went out for a walk -together, and the next morning she left with the train. -Sic ongauns, Nance--very different from the auld days -at Achree when we wass all happy together! Write -soon to your auld neibour and say what you think about -all this, and mind you tell me if you've see Miss Isla. -That's the chief thing. Only don't send a postcard, -Nance, for David Bain reads every wan of them and the -Glen hass all the news afore a body gets it themselves. -Love from your auld neibour,</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"ELSPETH MACLURE".</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Isla laid down the closely-written sheet, and a little -quiver ran across her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes Fraser sat forward, her questioning eyes very -eager and bright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What am I to say, then, Miss Isla?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Agnes, that you have seen me and that I am -quite well. But I forbid you to give any particulars. -Do you understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand, of course, but I dinna see, Miss Isla, -how it is possible for ye to live long like this. Some o' -your folk will come seekin' ye--that's a sure thing. If -Mr. Malcolm believes that ye have gane to Lady Mackinnon -he will soon be hearin' frae them that you are -not there. It's a dreadfu' business a'thegither, and I -hate the idea of where ye are now. It doesn't sound richt -at a'. Leave it the morn, Miss Isla, and come back -here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. I am very comfortable. I am well paid, -and I am interested in what's going on in the house. -I had no idea that there were such exciting incidents -in real life. I feel really as if I were a sort of Sherlock -Holmes, and I don't worry half as much as I used to do -about my own affairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla spoke as she felt at the moment, but the time -came when she realized that there had been more truth -and foresight in Agnes Fraser's point of view than she -had admitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After four days' close observation in the household of -Mrs. Bodley-Chard she arrived at an absolute conviction -as to what was actually happening. Mrs. Chard was -being kept continuously under the influence of drugs -that were gradually destroying her will-power and -leaving her ever weaker and weaker and more utterly in -the hands of her unscrupulous husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That he was unscrupulous Isla had not had the -smallest doubt from the moment she entered the house. -Also, she had satisfied herself that the French maid -carried out all his instructions regarding her mistress, -and, as she was in close attendance on her, while Isla -was only an occasional visitor to her room, she had -everything in her power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finding that Isla kept him at arm's length and that -she had not the smallest intention of being friendly -with him, Mr. Bodley-Chard abandoned all his efforts to -attract her and treated her in a very off-hand manner. -Without being positively rude, his manner was most -offensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla, however, entrenched herself behind her natural -reserve and did not mind. One day she made so bold -as to put a very straight question to Mr. Chard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Chard is very unwell to-day," she said quietly -and politely. "She is quite unable to give her mind to -any of her ordinary affairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no occasion for her to give her mind to -anything. People are paid to do the work of the house," -he said pointedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is not what I mean. Her mind seems to -wander. May I call in a doctor? It distresses me to -see her like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cold, almost baleful light came into his eyes, and -his mouth, under the carefully-trimmed moustache, -became very ugly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are my wife's housekeeper--not her nurse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon. I was engaged as a housekeeper-companion," -said Isla quite clearly. "And I can't see her growing worse -every day without being troubled about it. Hasn't she -any relations or friends who could come and take her -in hand, then? It does not seem right to leave her so -much in the hands of a flighty French maid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you aware that your words are offensive and -that they cast an imputation upon me? When I think -my wife requires other attention or supervision it will -be time to get it. She has the most implicit confidence -in me--or had until you sought to undermine it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla did not even take the trouble to deny the false -charge, but merely left the room, seriously troubled -about what was her duty in the matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A week later, she left the house one morning to do -her ordinary shopping and, in the course of her outing, -walked the whole length of Mount Street, looking for the -house of Dr. Stephens. When she found it she hesitated -a moment or two before she rang the bell. She was -only encouraged to take this step by the reflection that -a doctor's consulting-room is the grave of many secrets -and that nothing she could say there would be used -against her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A motor-car was in waiting, and when the door of the -house was opened she saw the doctor coming out to -start upon his rounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am just going out, but I can see you, of course," -he said cordially enough, leading the way to his -consulting-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's first look at him pleased her. He was tall and -thin and clean-shaven with a clever, serious face--a -man to whom it would be possible to explain the -situation in a very few words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know me, Dr. Stephens, and I hardly -know how to explain my call this morning. I come -from the house of Mrs. Bodley-Chard in Hans Crescent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, indeed!" he said interestedly. "And how is -Mrs. Chard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is very unwell," said Isla in a low, quick voice. -"I am her housekeeper-companion. My name is Mackinnon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" said the doctor still interestedly. "Mrs. Bodley-Chard -has had a good many, I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been there only three weeks, and I am -seriously concerned about her. It is because she told -me you were once her medical attendant that I am here -to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. But as I have ceased attendance upon the -lady I hardly know why you should have called."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I simply had to come. Mrs. Chard has no doctor -attending her at present. I understand that she has -had none since you left. And it is quite time that -somebody was on the spot to--to look after her. -Otherwise I believe she will die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you think that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because she is being kept almost continuously under -the influence of drugs, administered by her husband -and her French maid," said Isla quite clearly and -unhesitatingly. "I believe myself there is nothing the -matter with her except that, and if she were removed -from it all she would get quite well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Stephens took a turn across the floor, and when -he came back to Isla's side his face was even graver -than it had been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Mackinnon, I don't for a moment doubt the -truth of what you are saying. On the contrary, I know -it to be perfectly true. But we are quite powerless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how can you say that! It is terrible if two -responsible persons know that this wicked thing is going -on and take no steps to stop it! I can't be a party to -it, and I was in hopes that you would help me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was kicked out of the house by that unspeakable -cad, Chard, and I can't go back again. We have no -possible way of getting at him, except one--to lodge a -complaint with the police. Are you prepared to do -that? Frightful responsibility is incurred by taking -that step, of course--to say nothing of the publicity -attending it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sank back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Dr. Stephens, I couldn't do that! But surely -you, an influential medical man, knowing the facts, can -do something--ought to do something----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not so well up in medical jurisprudence as I -used to be," he said with a slight smile. "But I'll take -expert opinion to-day. Could you possibly come and -see me to-morrow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could, of course. What I am trying to do is to -persuade Mrs. Chard to let you resume personal -attendance on her. If she consents will you come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. It is a very awkward case. Don't -forget that Chard put me out of the house because I -told him quite plainly--well, just what you have told -me to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla saw the difficulties of the position and, after -a little more conversation with the doctor which -strengthened her determination to get him back to -the house, she bade him good-morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she reached Hans Crescent it was almost -lunch-time, and Robbins, the butler, was waiting for her with -a note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This has come by hand from the city for you, Miss. -It is from Mr. Chard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla turned aside to open the letter, and when she -broke the seal she saw a pink slip that looked like a -cheque.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Within, there were written a few curt words, dismissing -her from her position in the house and requesting -that she would leave before four o'clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With reddening cheeks she passed up the stairs and -tapped lightly at the door of Mrs. Chard's room. There -was no answer, and, after repeated knocks, she tried to -open the door and found it locked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment Fifine appeared at the other end of -the corridor with a small, satisfied smirk on her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Chard can't see you, Mees. She particularly -said I was not to let you in. She's asleep now. She -told me to say that she will write to you in the evening -if you will be good enough to leave your address."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla turned on her heel, her quick Highland temper -flashing in her eyes. She was very sorry for the poor -woman, but she could not be ordered from her house a -second time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She walked to her own room and began to gather her -belongings together.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-champion"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE CHAMPION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Malcolm Mackinnon, busy with his own concerns, had -no qualms about his sister even when the weeks went by, -bringing no line or sign from her. The Barras -Mackinnons did not write either, but when Malcolm thought -of the matter at all he concluded that she was safe with -them. Obviously there could be no other explanation -of the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Towards the end of November, however, a somewhat -disturbing note from Lady Mackinnon arrived at Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As Isla has not chosen to answer any of our letters -I am writing to ask what is the matter with her. We -kept on expecting her at Wimereaux up to the last, and -Uncle Tom was much disappointed that she did not -come. I am writing to say that we shall be in Glasgow -on Thursday night, en route for Barras, and that if you -and she will come up for the night to St. Enoch's we -can talk things over. If Isla likes to bring her things -and go on with us to Barras we shall only be too glad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm stood, staring stupidly at the letter, and, for -the moment, he was at his wits' end. Isla had not gone -to Wimereaux, their folk knew nothing of her!--where, -then, was she? Had Malcolm lived in close intimacy -with the folk in the Glen, as Isla had done, he would -have heard by now from Elspeth Maclure that she had -gone no farther than London and was there still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Truth to tell, he had been so relieved by his sister's -departure that he had not troubled his head about her -or noticed the quick flight of time. Things were going -well with him, and the spectre in the background was -giving no unnecessary trouble. He was a great believer -in luck, as many ignorant persons are, and he believed -that his had turned. His chief business in life just then -was the wooing of Vivien Rosmead, and he was now -anticipating the day, not far distant, when he intended -to ask her to be his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hoped to arrange the matter quietly when Rosmead -returned to Scotland, and to have his marriage an -accomplished fact as soon thereafter as possible. Then -he could snap his fingers at all the phantoms of the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm, however, did not reckon with certain forces -that are stronger than the poor planning of the human -brain, and so he marched on unconcernedly to the crisis -of his fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He received his aunt's letter one day at Lochearn -when he was on his way to Glasgow to see Cattanach. -At the station he met Neil Drummond, who was going -up to Callander to see a man at the Dreadnought Hotel, -and, being full of the news that had just come, he -blurted it out to Neil, who had seemed of late disposed -to be more friendly to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Drummond. Has your sister ever heard -from Isla since she left Glenogle?" he asked as he -offered Neil his cigarette-case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she hasn't, and Kitty has wondered, of course. -I suppose she's still with your uncle and aunt at -Wimereaux?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Garrion folks, in common with others, had frequently -made inquiries about Isla's welfare, and Malcolm had -invariably answered that she was all right. None of -them had any doubt but that she had been with the -Barras Mackinnons for the last two months.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They've left the place. They're going back to Barras -on Friday, but Isla isn't with them. She never has -been."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never has been! Then, where is she?" asked Neil -blankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, old chap, to tell you the truth, I don't know. -When she left she certainly said that she was going to -them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But haven't you had any letters?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a blessed one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil looked him all over with a sudden, sharp -scrutiny that, to another man, would have been, to say -the least of it, unpleasant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You say you haven't known all this time where -she is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't known. I tell you she hasn't written to -me. That's why I asked whether your sister had -heard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you haven't made the smallest effort to find -out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I?" inquired Malcolm coolly. "She's -of age, she knows her own mind, she had plenty of -money, and she doesn't want to be harried about her -private business. You don't know Isla, Neil, though -you think you do, and the man who marries her will -have a hard row to hoe. I can tell you that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond crushed back the desire to take Malcolm -Mackinnon by the throat. He was not normal where -Isla was concerned, and he took a far more serious view -of the situation than there was any need to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean to say that you haven't the shadow of -a clue as to where she is or what she is doing? Haven't -you any other friends in London to whom she could -have gone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None--except an old servant of Achree who lives -somewhere about the Edgeware Road," said Malcolm -with a sudden flash of remembrance. "Don't wear such -a worried look, old chap, and don't forget that Isla is -twenty-six years of age and more capable than either -of us of looking after herself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, hang it all, she's a woman, Malcolm, and--and -your sister ought not to be adrift like that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She isn't adrift," said Malcolm cheerily. "And, -anyway, what can we do? If she chooses to hide herself, -as she seems to be doing, who is to prevent her? She -has her reasons for doing so, no doubt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil Drummond was conscious of a growing indignation, -of a swift return of his old rage against Malcolm, -and of scorn of that careless, irresponsible being who -had made life such a burden to the woman whom Neil -himself loved. He withdrew with a snort into his own -corner and jumped out at Callander with a very curt -good-bye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put through his business there very quickly and -returned to Lochearnhead by the earliest possible train. -During the whole journey he was racking his brains as -to how and where he could discover the address of the -old servant of whom Malcolm had spoken. He knew -Isla's ways, and he was aware that it had always been -her delight when in London to look up any of her own -folk who were settled there. He ran over in his memory -the servants at Achree with whom he had been familiar, -but he could not fix his mind on anyone in particular. -Diarmid, however, who had been with the Mackinnons -for nearly thirty years, would surely be able to help him. -He would go to Diarmid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His bicycle had been left at the station, because the -train had offered a quicker way of getting over the -heavy roads to Callander. He now took it out and rode -swiftly down the hill to Lochearn and up Glenogle -towards Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil had all the swift impetuosity of the Celt in his -blood, and he did not let the grass grow under his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was fortunate, however, in obtaining the information -he desired about half way up, at the farm-house of -Darrach, where he came upon Elspeth Maclure taking -her washing down off the lines in the front garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He swung himself off his machine, set it against the -drystone dyke, and pushed open the little gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth, surprised and pleased by this little attention, -hastened to ask him into the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thanked her, but declined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am seeking information, Mrs. Maclure. I was on -my way to Creagh to see Diarmid, but perhaps you will -do. Do you remember the name of an old servant of -the Mackinnons who married in London and settled -somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Edgeware Road?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A curious flicker crossed Elspeth's eager face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean Agnes Fraser that was under housemaid -at Achree when I was upper of three, do ye, Maister -Drummond?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose I do if the description answers," he said -with a laugh. "But I don't know her name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She lives at 18 Cromer Street, Edgeware Road, sir," -answered Elspeth. "If ye'll just come intil the hoose -I'll write it doon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here you are," said Neil, drawing out a notebook -and a pencil. "18 Cromer Street, Edgeware Road. -Thank you very much. That saves me that stiff pull -to Creagh, and the roads are heavy to-day. I was glad -to leave my machine at the station and take a handy -train to Callander. Maclure and all the young folks -well, I hope?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, thank you," said Elspeth, but the odd, -eager expression did not leave her face as she followed -the Laird of Garrion to the gate. "I had a letter from -Mrs. Fraser not so long ago, Maister Drummond."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had--eh? And what was her news?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She said she had had Miss Mackinnon stoppin' -at her hoose. That was aboot a month ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think she is there still?" asked Neil with -apparent carelessness, though his hand as he stooped to -his bicycle trembled a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm no sure, but I think, Maister Drummond, that -Agnes wass troubled apoot her. I haf been troubled -mysel'. For, look you, it iss an awfu' thing for the Glen -that Miss Isla should haf peen spirited away like this. -It iss not the same at all. And nopody efer speakin' -her naame or tryin' to get her pack--that iss the worst -thing of all. If you please. Maister Drummond, askin' -your pardon for my free speech----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond sprang to his machine and waved his -hand in parting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, Mrs. Maclure. I'll bring Miss Isla back -if it can be done. But keep a quiet tongue in your -head--not a word to a soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rode off at break-neck speed and, to the great -astonishment of his folk, announced that he had to -leave Garrion that very night for London, having -business there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond slept soundly in the train, for he was -young and strong, and he had had a tiring and exciting -day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Arrived at Euston, he entered the hotel and made -himself fit for his great quest. But after he had finished -his toilet and gone through the whole menu of the table -d'hote breakfast it was only half-past eight. Even an -old friend may not presume to call on a lady at such an -unholy hour of the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>London had no bright welcome for the Laird of -Garrion. One of the worst fogs of a particularly foggy -November lay like a thick yellow pall over everything, -and through its impenetrable folds weird shapes and -shadows loomed, and strange, half-stifled cries troubled -the air as if there were some invisible and ghostly -warfare waged in the streets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long do you suppose it will take me to get to the -Edgeware Road in this--eh?" he asked the big porter in -the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ten minutes by the underground, sir," he answered. -"After that, I don't know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil took the risks. About half-past ten o'clock he -emerged from the underground fastness of the Edgeware -Road Station and began to grope his way about for his -ultimate destination. But it was a sorry business. He -seemed to be wandering round in a circle, and by noon -he did not know which end of the Road he was at.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a sudden miracle, often seen in the case of a -London fog, was wrought by some invisible force in the -upper air. The thick veil was drawn back as if by -unseen hands, a few feeble rays of wintry sunshine filtered -through the gloom, and London became free and visible -once more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil then found that he had wandered into Maida -Vale, where he was totally stranded. He hailed a passing -hansom and, giving the address, sat back comfortably -with his cigarette, all unconscious, until he took a peep -into the little mirror at the side of the cab, that his face -was exceedingly grimy and that there were various -smudges on his collar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil was not vain, but a man likes to look his best -when he goes to see the girl he loves. He did what he -could to remedy the defects, and was fairly satisfied with -the results when the cab set him down at his destination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The jingling cab bells reached Agnes Fraser's ears in -the dining-room, where, with a polishing cloth, she was -trying to remove the traces of the fog from her furniture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She herself opened the door and had no doubt when -she saw a tall young man alighting from the hansom -that he was only some fresh seeker after "accommodation," -which is the word used in her business. She had -of course, seen the Laird of Garrion when he was a boy -but she did not recognize him now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paid the man and came smilingly to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Fraser? You don't know me, I can see, though -you must have seen me sometimes at Achree--Drummond -of Garrion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes's face flushed warmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, sir, I beg your pardon. I micht hae kent; but -there--of course ye are cheenged. Will you come inside, -sir? It's a prood woman I am to bid ye to my hoose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He entered the house, and, with his hat in his hand, -put the one straight question on his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Miss Mackinnon here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great light broke over Agnes Fraser's mind. She -nodded silently, pointing to the dining-room, and -followed him in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is God-sent, Mr. Drummond. I wad hae written -to the Glen the day if ye hadna come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what is wrong? I hope Miss Mackinnon is not -ill?" he said with eager apprehension.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not ill in her body, though she has got very thin. -But will you not sit down, and I will tell you? She is -not in the hoose at this very meenit, though I think I -can tell ye whaur to find her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil took the chair and waited for all that he might -hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has been in this hoose, sir--let me see--ten -weeks a'thegither, coontin' frae the time she cam' first. -Three weeks of that time she was at that queer hoose in -Hans Crescent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What queer house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes then grasped the fact that nobody in Glenogle -or Balquhidder knew aught of Isla's movements since -she had come to London, and she proceeded in her own -terse and graphic way to describe them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weel, ye see, she cam' here--for why, I dinna ken. -Them that's left in the Glen are the wans that should -ken that bit of it. But she cam', not intendin' at a' to -go to foreign places to Lady Mackinnon, but jist to live -by hersel' and get her ain livin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil started in his chair. The thing was -unthinkable--intolerable. It could not be Isla of whom the woman -was talking, yet her broad, comely face was so full of -honest concern and her voice rang so true that he could -not doubt a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was wae for her, for I ken London through and -through, and what a hole it is--bar for them that hae -money and heaps o' folk. In the Glen, see, ye can live -withoot onybody and no be that ill aff, but London -is--is fair hell unless ye hae folk; I'm sayin' that, that -kens. I telt her weel, though I was a prood woman to -hae her in my hoose, and wad hae dune ony mortal thing -for her. But it was not the hoose for her that had been -brocht up in the Castle o' Achree wi' servants at her ca'. -Her idea was to lodge wi' me and work in the day-time, -but she could get naething like that to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes paused, breathless, and dashed away something -from her eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I tell ye ye'll maybe lauch, and maybe ye'll -greet. It's what I felt mair like. The first place she -gaed to was to a woman that wantit somebody to tak' oot -her pet dogs for an airin' in the Park. Yes, she went -after that--Miss Mackinnon of Achree!--she did! And -that'll show ye far better than I can tell ye what London -is for the woman-body that has neither money nor folk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond was silent, but the veins began to rise on -his ruddy forehead, and his kind eyes flashed fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She didna think she wad tak' that at seevin-an'-saxpence -a week," pursued Agnes with merciless candour, -"and syne she gaed to the Hans Crescent place to -be a kind o' companion-hoosekeeper to a leddy. O' a' -the traps there is set in London for a woman-body--that's -the warst, for, look ye, Maister Drummond, a -servant-lass kens what she is and what she has to dae, -but when you're that," she said, with a scornful snap of -her fingers, "you're neither fish nor flesh nor guid red -herrin'. But gang she would. It seems that -Mrs. Bodley-Chard--sic a name to begin wi'--but they're a' -daft wi' their double-barrelled names here!--was an -auld wife married to a young man that had been her -first man's clerk. It was her money he was efter, and -Miss Isla thocht he was tryin' to get rid o' her wi' some -pooshonous drug. Ye ken Miss Isla. Nae joukery-pawkery -can live near whaur she is, and she began to -fecht the scoondrel quietly-like, daein' what she could -for the puir woman. But at the end o' three weeks she -was dismissed at a moment's notice, her money flung at -her--like. She didna tak' that, and she cam' back here, -whaur she's been ever since. And she's got naething -to dae sin syne, and her money's near dune, and--and -she's--weel, if ye see her, ye'll ken what wey I was -gaun to write to the Glen this very day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond rose up from his chair, and he was like -a man ready to fight the whole of London for Isla's sake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what did she mean by it?" he said a little -hoarsely. "There was no need----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She seemed to think there was. Forby, she was not -pu'in' in the same boat wi' Maister Malcolm--the Laird, -I mean--and she has never written to him or heard frae -him since she cam'. That I do ken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, and where is she? I must see her and, if -possible, take her back with me to the Glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When the fog lifted she gaed oot for a walk in the -Park. She hasna been gane twenty minutes or so. Ye -can easy follow her. Do ye ken London, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not this part of it, I am afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But ye canna go wrang. Gang oot into the Edgeware -Road, and turn to your left, and gang on till ye -come to the Marble Arch. Syne you're in the Park. -She's very fond o' walkin' roond by the Serpentine. -Ony bobby will tell ye which wey to tak' when you're -inside the gates."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond departed without further parley, and -Agnes, with a big sigh of relief, returned to her polishing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had given the entire story away without ever -having paused to inquire whether the Laird of Garrion -had the right to hear it. He had certainly assumed -some such right, and, anyhow, the time had come when -something had to be done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The desperate look in Isla's eyes that morning had -haunted and terrified her. Each week Isla had insisted -on scrupulously paying the full amount for "The -Picture Gallery" and for such food as she ate in the -house, and now her little store was well-nigh exhausted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a very searching and cruel experience for Isla, -the memory of which never afterwards wholly faded -from her remembrance, though she always said she -could never regret the period of "Sturm und Drang" -which had given her such insight into the lives of -thousands of women battling with adverse circumstances -from the cradle to the grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Garrion's temper worked itself into fever-heat as his -great, swinging stride took him through the swirl of the -traffic at the Marble Arch and into the cool, wide spaces -of the Park. Against Malcolm Mackinnon his anger -burned with an unholy fire. He would never forgive -him for this--for his callous indifference to his sister's -fate, for his absolute failure to make the smallest -inquiry on her behalf. In future she should be removed -from her brother's jurisdiction altogether, and he would -have to answer to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such was Neil's mighty resolve as he strode along, -his restless eyes, sweeping from side to side in search -of the dear, slim figure of the woman he loved. There -was very little alloy of self in his thoughts that winter -morning as he swept round by the windy Serpentine in -search of Isla. It was all of her he thought with a vast, -encompassing tenderness which equalled Rosmead's, -and was less cautious and deliberate in its operations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not doubt in the least that he would find her, -but he had to walk a little farther than he expected. -At the end of the beautiful sheet of water there is a -winding path, and, passing there, he looked up and saw, -sitting on one of the seats, a solitary figure which he -thought looked like Isla. Only at the distance he could -not be quite certain. It did not take him long to cover -it. Dashing past the smart nursemaids and the bonnie -bairns, whose sweet freshness even London fogs could -not dim, he came presently to her side. And Isla, -sitting with her head slightly turned away, was not -aware of his presence till the gravel crunched under his -impetuous foot and her name was spoken in the quick -accents of apprehensive love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rose up a little wildly, stretched out her hands, -essayed to speak, then went white all over, and collapsed, -a little heap of unconscious humanity, on the seat.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-arch-plotters"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE ARCH-PLOTTERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lady Betty Neil, the aunt of the Drummonds, who lived -with them at Garrion, was a Highland lady of the old -school. She loved the Gaelic and deplored its increasing -disuse in the Glen, she had all the lore of the North -country at her finger-ends, and was, moreover, gifted with -the second-sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Certainly, when she received a peremptory telegram -from her nephew on the second day after his departure -for London, she evinced neither perturbation nor surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You go to London, Aunt Betty!" cried Kitty, -open-mouthed. "What does he mean? How dare he? Let -me see the telegram."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty, leaning on her ebony stick with her left -hand, produced from her reticule the crumpled piece of -pink paper bearing the summons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I need you in London. Will meet you to-morrow -night. Euston, half-past six."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kitty looked from the telegram to her aunt's face and -back again in sheer amaze. Never had Lady Betty -looked more like "an ancestor," which was Sadie -Rosmead's name for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a picturesque old lady of great height and -commanding mien, her hair and eyes still as black as -sloes, her face beautiful still, in spite of its -wrinkles--the face that had once been the toast of a county. She -was the Drummonds' nearest relative, their mother's -sister, in fact, and, though immensely wealthy, she had -no fixed habitation of her own, and she had agreed to -live at Garrion, at any rate until Neil brought home a wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That he had found one now she did not doubt, and she -hoped that he had. Isla Mackinnon was a woman after -her own heart. Neil had confided to her the nature of -the business that had taken him to London, but he had -enjoined silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kitty can't hold her tongue, as you know, Aunt -Betty. Besides, she's too thick at Achree at present, and -I don't want them to get wind of it. This is a business -that has to be done on the quiet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aunt Betty, what took Neil to London?" quoth -Kitty with a severe expression on her piquant face. "You -and he are keeping me in the dark. It isn't fair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neil has his reasons, my dear, and they are good -ones, depend on it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you can't go to London by yourself, auntie! The -thing's outrageous! It can't be contemplated for a -moment. I must go with you to take care of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'll take Lisbeth, and I must go and arrange -matters with her now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty was now seventy-four, but she was as -straight and supple as a young birch tree. She carried -a stick--not because she needed it, but because it was -her whim to do so and because it had been given to her -by an old sweetheart for a wager. She had never parted -with it. It was her faithful companion by day, and at -night it stood in a handy corner by her bed. Lady Betty -had never married. But had any married wife a life so -full of romance? This is not Lady Betty's story, however.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sniffed a love story afar off and rose to it with the -keen scent of a war-horse for the fray. There she would -be in her element--keen, shrewd, sympathetic, and full -of common-sense. Neil had made no mistake in sending -that telegram. He knew the hour had come, and the -woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Betty was as gay as a young girl over her preparations, -which were so elaborate that Kitty felt called -upon to remonstrate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mind your own business, my dear. I know mine. -A lassie like you can afford to rise and run. A woman -like me must uphold the dignity of her age and position. -Neil has not said what he wants me for. I must be -prepared for any emergency."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kitty was speechless, consumed with curiosity and -inordinately jealous. She travelled to Stirling, however, -to put her aunt on the London train, and on the way -back drove to Achree to acquaint the inmates with the -astounding news of Lady Betty's departure for London, -that gave her one hour's rare enjoyment and partly -consoled her for being left behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty arrived at Euston as fresh and gay as when -she had left Garrion in the raw of the winter morning, -driving down Balquhidder in a blast of half-frozen rain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Neil was on the platform to greet her, overjoyed -at sight of her clever old face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a brick, Aunt Betty. But I knew you -would come. How did you get rid of Kitty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not easily, my lad. But I did manage it. Lisbeth -is here. Where are we going, and where can she ride? -We want to talk together in the cab, you and I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a brougham waiting. It's quite fair, and -Lisbeth can go on the box. We are going to Brown's Hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty nodded an approval. She was known at -Brown's. In the old days, when she had been a figure in -London society, she had often spent a season there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's Isla Mackinnon, of course. Where is she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's with an old servant of Achree living in a place -off the Edgeware Road, from which you will fetch her -to-morrow," said Neil quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do what with her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's for you to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me about her.--everything you can or will. I -must know how I stand, and where. It's not for nothing -that an old woman of seventy-four rises and runs at a young -man's bidding."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil nodded comprehendingly, and in his quickest and -most graphic way he put her in possession of the facts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's an unco story," she said, folding her slender -hands with an unusual grip on the ebony stick. "It's -not a story that Donald Mackinnon would have liked to -bear in connexion with his one ewe lamb. I'm glad -he's in Balquhidder," she said brusquely. "But the -spunk of the lassie! There's grit there Neil -Drummond! She'll fight--ay, and starve, but nobody shall -know of it. That's the true spirit that has made -Scotland great! It's in the women yet, Neil, but it's -scarce, very scarce among the men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil had no time for platitudes. His head was a -whirl of plans.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does Isla know I'm coming?" asked the old lady then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. She expects you to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has she left herself in your hands, then, lad?" -asked Lady Betty with a curious straight glance under -which Neil reddened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So far. She's run down, body and spirit, Aunt Betty. -I want you to realize that before you see her. She--she -has lost grip. My God, to see Isla Mackinnon like that! -It makes me itch to get with my two hands at Mackinnon's -throat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave him out of the count, Neil. His Maker will -deal with him, I dinna doubt," said the old lady quietly. -"Then, she's to be turned over to me to do with what -I think fit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and what she will agree to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But this is a big thing, Neil. Does it mean that one -day she will come to Garrion?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please God, it does mean that. But only a brute -would think of himself at such a time. She must first -be made well in body and spirit, Auntie Betty. I'll come -in later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if she's let you do all this she must like you, -Neil. Isla Mackinnon is not the woman to take favours -of this kind from frem folk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait till you see her," he pleaded, and she said no -more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ate an astonishingly big dinner, insisting on going -down to the restaurant, dressed in an elegant gown of -rich black satin, with priceless lace on the bodice and -a diamond star glistening among its filmy folds. Many -looked in the direction of the handsome young man and -the still handsomer old lady and wondered who they -were.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Betty slept like a tired child the whole night -long and rose at eight o'clock when Lisbeth brought her -morning tea, every faculty alert and braced for the day's -work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At half-past ten the brougham came again, and Neil -drove with her to the end of the Edgeware Road, where -he got down, saying that he would meet her at lunch at -Brown's, whither she was to bring Isla if she could -persuade her to come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes Fraser herself joyfully opened the door to Lady -Betty Neil. She was graciously recognized, and her -welfare was asked for before Isla's name was even -mentioned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Isla is in her own room, my lady. Will you -come up? A very dark mornin', isn't it? I hope you -are not very tired wi' your journey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty suitably replied, and, with the aid of the -ebony stick, she climbed to "The Pictur Gallery," where -Isla was sitting over the fire, very white and spent, but -with a more restful look on her face than it had worn -for many a day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sprang up at the opening of the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lady Betty, Lady Betty! You came all this way to -see me!" she cried breathlessly, holding out both her -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wheesht, my dear--that's nothing. I loved your -father well. I just missed being your mother: and if -I had been there would have been none of this -gallivanting. Where can I sit?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla drew in the most comfortable chair she could -find, and the old lady sat down and assumed her most -characteristic attitude, in which the ebony stick played -a prominent part.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're not going to talk about what's past, Isla, nor -even about what's to come. Our concern is with the -present moment. Now I have plumed my feathers and -flown from Balquhidder, I've no mind to go back until -the sun begins to shine again. Will you go with me -to-morrow to the south of France? I've not been there -for eleven years. We'll go to Monty, my dear, and -have a fling with the bravest of them. It stands to -reason that I can't go alone. Will ye go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sat very still, and from the expression of her face -her thoughts could not have been gathered. Perhaps -the old lady partly guessed them. The gift of second-sight -brings in its train a sort of sixth sense that enables -its possessor to be sure about things that other -people only wonder about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I have no money, Lady Betty, and it is Kitty -that you ought to take."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kitty can come by and by. Besides, she has been -so many times there that she is not caring about going -any more. As for the money, I have plenty, and soon -I shall not need it. We don't take it with us when we -lie down in Balquhidder, my dear. And to spend a -little here and there while we have it--why, that's a -big pleasure, and it is one that you ought not to deny -an auld wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was delicately done. Isla raised her swimming -eyes and capitulated in a moment. The prospect allured -her beyond any power of hers to tell, and no feeling of -obligation to Lady Betty troubled her. One fine nature -responds to another. It was what Isla herself would -have done in similar circumstances--what, indeed, she -had often done on a small scale in the glens when she -had the chance. The kinship of good deeds was -between them, and there is none closer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An immense satisfaction shone in the old lady's eyes -at this unexpectedly easy capture of the fort. They -positively glowed with her inward triumph, and, without -so much as alluding to the odd circumstances that had -brought them together, she proceeded to expatiate on -what they would do when they got away to the sunshine. -This was the crowning touch of the wisdom that comes -from the second-sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was sick to death of herself and of the sordid -problems of her life. What she wanted was to get away -from everything that would remind her of them, and, -above all, from the people that would talk about them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no smart clothes for the Riviera, Lady Betty. -But take me as your maid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lisbeth is here," was the grim answer. "I can get a -maid for the hiring, but companions and friends have to -be won. I suppose you have things to cover you, and, -if I mind rightly, the shops at Nice were not that bad, -though they put it on for the English. But you and me -will get the better of them. Come then, my dear, and -we'll go back to Brown's to lunch and talk about all our -plans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then an odd shyness seemed to come over the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neil will be there, Lady Betty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I suppose that he will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, will you excuse me? I--I haven't got over -things yet. Did he tell you how he found me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a general way he did, but Neil has not his sister's -gift of the gab. You have to fill in with him. Of this -you may be sure, Isla--that Neil Drummond will not tell -to me, or to anybody a thing that would vex or humble -you. He has set you up there!" she added with a slight -upward inflection of her eyebrows as well as of her voice. -"So come, and remember that you and I are not women -with a past, but only with a future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cackling at her own joke, she carried off Isla, who -met Neil in the luncheon-room of the restaurant in a -way which commanded Lady Betty's highest admiration. -Isla Mackinnon was no fool. She was neither hysterical -nor emotional. Lady Betty knew that in what the girl -had done her reason had fully justified her, though her -method perhaps had been at fault. She guessed that in -the sunny days to come she would hear the full story, -or at least enough of it to enable her to fill in all the gaps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil's manner was also admirable, and they appeared -just like a happy little family party, of which the old -lady was the life and soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That evening after dinner, over the fire in Lady Betty's -sitting-room, she indicated to her nephew his course of -action.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will not be a good thing for you to come with us -just now, Neil. We can make the journey by ourselves -and get settled. Then I'll write."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Disappointment immediately wrote itself large upon his -face. He had already wired to Garrion for another trunk -to be sent and he had looked forward to being the director -of the little travelling party to the south.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am understanding Isla better than you, my dear, -and just at the present moment the sight of you humiliates -her just a wee bit. She canna forget how you found -her and the weakness she thought she betrayed. She -has to get over that, and she will do it all the quicker if -you are not on the spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, hang it all, Aunt Betty, to go back to Garrion--and -Christmas without you, too! I won't do it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't lay down the law as to times and seasons. -What is at the back of my mind is that you will bring -Kitty to Nice, or to Monte Carlo, or to wherever we have -settled ourselves, and spend Christmas with us. Then -folk will not have any talk about us, because I, of course, -can do as I like and nobody dare say a word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil's face brightened as he consulted his pocket-diary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is the fifth, so we shall come inside of three -weeks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will come when I bid ye--not a moment sooner -or later," she said severely. "Don't forget how you -hauled the old wife from the Garrion fastnesses to the -gay world again. Now she must have her revenge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Neil did not answer she leaned forward on the -ebony stick, and her eyes grew soft and luminous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, lad. Ye may trust your Aunt Betty. She is -not without knowledge of a woman's heart. If Isla is to -be won it will take time and some skill. Her heart is -asleep, but if I can waken it it shall be done. Do you -think I am to be idle in these three weeks? I think ye -may safely leave her in my hands. I will be true to your -cause, for I would dearly like to see her in the house of -Garrion for all our sakes as well as for her own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Neil's turn to capitulate, which he did with all -the grace he could muster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next day at two o'clock of the afternoon he saw his -aunt and Isla off by the boat-train at Charing Cross, and -thereafter he got ready for his own return at night to -Scotland. There was nothing to keep him in London -now, and he had left certain loose ends of his affairs at -home which would be none the worse of his handling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the station Isla had broken down, trying to thank -him with a faint, wavering smile on her pathetic lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't, Isla, for God's sake, don't! It's down on my -knees I'd go to serve you, and besides, we made the -pact--didn't we?--that day long ago when we went to Glasgow -together and lunched at St. Enoch's. I've lived on -the memory of that day all these months. Don't grudge -me what I've been able to do now. Besides, it's nothing -but what Highland folk are doing for one another every day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty, observing the emotional moment, frowned -upon him warningly from the background, and he tried -to restrain himself. When the train fairly moved out -Isla leaned out of the window to wave to him, and when -she drew back to her seat her eyes were still wet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've a job with that laddie, Isla. He's very thrawn. -I'm often thinking I'll wash my hands of him and Kate. -What with his dour temper and her tongue, my life is -not as peaceful as a woman of my years has the right to -expect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neil--a dour temper, Lady Betty!" cried Isla -spiritedly. "This is the first I have heard of it, and I -don't believe it now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's there, my dear. And forby, in some things he -hasna the sense of a paitrick on the moor. I'm tired of -them both, I tell ye, and glad to get away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, the wily old plotter! Isla would have argued the -point with her and was only restrained from doing so by -her sense of decency. But this was the line of diplomacy -Lady Betty started on--belittling Neil up to a certain -point and voicing her relief at being rid of his company -until Isla waxed furious and championed him both by -spoken word and in her secret thoughts all the way south.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty, a real diplomatist in her way, took care, -however, not to overact her part. She would throw in at -intervals a judicious word which had the odd effect in -casting a full glare of sunshine on all that was best of -Neil and so giving unexpected glimpses of his fine young -manhood. Then, after a time, she left the subject in -order that her words might filter down to the bed-rock -of Isla's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very grey and dour seemed Balquhidder and the -Garrion hills when Drummond drove up in the snell -winter morning, meeting a bitter wind that seemed to -skin his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right at home, Hamish?" he asked the groom, -and, being answered in the affirmative, he spoke no -further word until they turned in at the Garrion gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Kitty is at Achree, sir. They came and fetched -her away the day you left," observed Hamish stolidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you tell me that at the station?" inquired -Neil rather hotly, to which question the man answered -never a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I took the telegram over last nicht, sir, and she will -come back to-day," he said after a moment in the same -stolid fashion, wondering what had happened in London -to shorten his master's usually placid temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kitty arrived in the Achree motor, alone, about -luncheon-time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to hear all about Isla, Neil," she cried. "I -thought I should find her here. What have you done -with her and Aunt Betty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have gone to the South of France."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Kitty, and her piquant face fell. "I don't -call that fair of Aunt Betty. She might have taken me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you're a good girl and don't talk too much between -now and Christmas," said Neil provokingly, "I'll take you -myself to be there in time for Christmas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kitty danced in ecstasy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I shall be glad. It's going to be a frightfully -dismal Christmas here this year, and nobody is going -to do any entertaining. The Rosmeads are all down in -the mouth because their brother can't get away for -Christmas, and now it may be Easter, or even later, -before they see him. Bridge-building seems to be a very -unsatisfactory business, though you make so much money -at it. Peter Rosmead has to work like a navvy. He goes -down into caissons--and things in diver's clothes to -the bottom of the river. That's where the difficulty is. -Things are always happening--silting, and queer things -like that. Then the work has to be done all over again. -He seems annoyed about it, but he'll keep on at it. He -hasn't got that square jaw for nothing," cried Kitty -breathlessly. "Well, tell me all about Isla Mackinnon. What -has she been doing all this time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing particular. There isn't any romance or -tragedy--or anything. She was simply living with an old -servant of Achree and getting very sick of it. She would -have come home soon, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did she seem glad to see you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isla doesn't say much at any time. But, yes--I -think she was glad. Have you seen anything of -Mackinnon at Achree, Kitty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, yes. I've seen him every day. He spends -the most of his time there, and I think it's going to be a -match between him and Vivien."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The colour rose a little in Drummond's cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should have thought that she would have had -enough of matrimony after her experience," he observed -drily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should have thought so, too, Neil. And at first I -was angry at Malcolm, thinking he was only after her -money. But now anybody can see that he cares. I -wonder how long it will be before we hear the news, and -what Isla will say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond had got fresh food for reflection. Knowing -what he did of Malcolm Mackinnon, he wondered just -how much or how little the Rosmeads guessed. It was -a certain fact that had they known the whole truth about -Malcolm Mackinnon he never would have been permitted -so much intimacy at Achree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the thought uppermost in Neil's mind was an unholy -joy that caissons, and silt, and other queer things, as -Kitty put it, were keeping Peter Rosmead safely out of -the way at the bottom of the Delaware River. He would -not have minded much though he had never come up again.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-lure-of-vivien"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE LURE OF VIVIEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Six weeks later, on a snowy January day, Neil Drummond -rode one of his big roans to the Lodge of Creagh, -where he had a luncheon appointment with Malcolm -Mackinnon. It was one o'clock when he breasted the -last bit of rising ground and beheld in front of him the -little house standing sheer on the edge of the Moor of -Silence, its bleak outline silhouetted against the clear -grey of the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The smell of Margaret Maclaren's baked meats was in -his nostrils as he turned in at the gate, whetting the -appetite he had gained in his long ride from Garrion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil never looked better than when astride a horse, -and he was the best judge of horse-flesh in all the Glen. -In fact, that was his one extravagance. He was looking -particularly well that day. There was an air of -buoyancy about him which would not be repressed. He had -whistled and sung all the way from Balquhidder and had -given Pride of Garrion her head in a way which that -damsel particularly liked and in which she had seldom -before been indulged. Her sleek sides were wet with -foam as she ran quivering to the door, tossing her pretty -head, the breath coming fast in her delicate nostrils, -life brimming over in every pore and muscle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm, who had been watching, opened the door -immediately, bade him good day, and in a word -expressed his pleasure at sight of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They walked together to the stable, where Neil -himself rubbed down his horse, saw that she had a modest -drink, covered her up, and then turned, ready to -accompany his host back to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Had a good time abroad--eh?" asked Malcolm with -a somewhat covert glance at Neil as they walked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil threw his head up with a joyous air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ripping. It's a bit thick coming back to the grey -silence of the glens. It's a white silence with us. We've -heavy drifts from Balquhidder up. You're pretty free -here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's coming, though," said Malcolm, with an upward -glance at the snell skies. "Come inside. The house is -small, but it's easily warmed. That's one comfort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Neil had washed his hands and brushed his -clothes they passed into the little snuggery, where -Malcolm sat and smoked of an evening. He had made -some little alteration in the arrangement of the house, -and the room which the General had used as his library -and sitting-room was now converted into a dining-room, -which it had originally been. It was a man's house -now, the few tokens of Isla's presence having long since -disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whether Malcolm was able to keep the peace between -his two elderly and contentious servants nobody knew. -Truth to tell, he never bothered his head about them, -and many a storm rose and raged in the kitchen and -was followed by many a dead and ominous calm, but of -these he seemed to be totally unaware. He had none -of those finer shades of feeling which had rendered -Isla immediately conscious of any rift in the domestic -lute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drummond stretched himself in the lounge-chair before -the blazing peat with a sigh of content. He was in -the mood to be at peace with the whole world and to -give every man more than his due. It occurred to him -as he looked at Malcolm, on whose face the full light -from the window fell where he sat, that he had improved -in looks of late. The coarseness had disappeared from -his features, and there was an expression of refinement -and delicacy which had been at one time wholly absent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was such an improvement that Drummond decided -that Mackinnon's looks had been underrated. The keen, -hard, simple life, in conjunction with the pursuit of a -certain lofty ideal, had wrought its saving grace in -Malcolm Mackinnon, as it will in any man who gives it -fair play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely you didn't stop away as long as you intended," -said Malcolm as he lit up his pipe, while waiting for -Diarmid's summons to eat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was there three weeks--long enough to idle about, -though I could have stopped three years," said -Drummond significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your sister didn't come home with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. They haven't any plans just yet. Aunt Betty -talks about staying over Easter, and if they stop as long -of course I'll go back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nice, is it, or Monte Carlo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Their headquarters are at Nice. My aunt has taken -a villa. The old lady is going strong, and she is looking -younger every day. What a warrior she is! She could -give points to most of the girls one sees. She knows -how to enjoy life at seventy-five. She had her birthday -when I was there, and she had a dinner party of twelve. -She has unearthed all sorts of old friends on the Riviera, -and more are turning up every day. The latest is a -Russian princess, whose mother was a Scotswoman -somewhere away back in the dark ages. They're all -having the time of their lives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil was making talk, and they both knew it. It was -not to rehearse these trivial items that he had come up -that day to the Moor of Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just then Diarmid made timely diversion by -announcing that luncheon was served. His manner was -irreproachable and dignified, and it could not have been -excelled in the most distinguished establishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a great day for Diarmid, and he waited behind -his young master's chair with a secret pride, for the -Laird of Garrion was a guest worthy of honour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The luncheon, though simple, was excellent, and they -both enjoyed it to the full. A modest bottle of claret -with the cheese just unloosed their tongues, and when -Diarmid had left them Neil looked across the table very -earnestly at Mackinnon's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't suppose it will come as a very great surprise -to you, Malcolm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" asked Malcolm with a start.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About Isla."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about her? You saw her, of course. I didn't -like to harry you with questions, but I suppose she's all -right with Lady Betty. She has never written. I have -managed, somehow, to commit the unpardonable sin -where Isla is concerned. I'm sorry, but there isn't -anything I can do now but wait her pleasure. You see it -was she who cut the knot, so to speak."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil nodded as he crumbled the biscuit on his plate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know whether you know, Malcolm, that I have -always wanted Isla. I've asked her to marry me on the -average about twice a year for the last three or four -years. Last year, I believe, I asked her six times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such persistence deserves its reward, and I hope -you've got it, old chap," said Malcolm, but his tone lacked -warmth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not understand the man who wanted Isla. -To him she seemed lacking in most, if not all, of the -qualities which make a woman desirable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has said 'Yes' at last, Malcolm, and that's why -I am here to-day," said Neil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And his hand trembled ever so slightly as it rested on -the sheer white of the tablecloth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, and what's going to happen next?" said -Malcolm with a curious dry note in his voice. "I'm glad, -of course. It--it's a mighty relief to me to hear that -anything is likely to anchor Isla or settle her. Though -nobody may have given me credit for it, Neil, I've had -many a bad hour--ay, and day--about her up here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you have," said Neil. "But, all the same, -I can't help saying that I don't think you ought to have -left her as long as you did--in London, I mean. That's -all past, however, and there isn't any use of going back -on it now. It's the future, thank God, that concerns us. -I hope ours is going to be very bright."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has agreed to marry you, then? Is it likely to -be soon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I should like, and what I'm hoping for, is that -it may take place at Nice. I've had to leave the details -to Aunt Betty, and they're safe with her. She's the most -ripping General on earth. I owe this happiness to her, -I don't doubt. There's a Scotch church there, and we -could go south a bit for the honeymoon and get back to -Garrion for the summer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It sounds all right, and in that way you would -escape all the fuss and talk of the glens," said Malcolm -musingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to see you, Malcolm, because you're the -head of the house, and I must lay the position before -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but there isn't any need, Neil,--between you and -me, I mean. I haven't the right. Isla has always -managed her own affairs, and she wouldn't like my -interference now, I'm sure. Of course, anything I can do I -should like to do if I'm permitted. I'd go out to Nice to -give her away if she asked me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll come to that later. I want to tell you that -after I'm married we'll have Garrion to ourselves. My -aunt will get a place for herself somewhere and take away -Kitty. I'm not a very rich man, and you know what -Highland estates are in these times. But--again it's -Aunt Betty to the rescue. She says she'll give us ten -thousand pounds as a wedding gift and that there will -be more to come later on. So you see you needn't have -any anxiety about Isla's financial position."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't have any in any case if she was in your -hands," said Malcolm with difficulty. "Ten thousand -pounds and Garrion clear! By Gad, Neil, you're a lucky -beggar! Try to put yourself in my place for a moment -and see whether you wouldn't have some crumbs of pity -for a poor devil who can't make ends meet and who is -just as anxious to have a home as you can possibly be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A something swept over Malcolm's face--a spasm of -infinite yearning which oddly moved Neil Drummond. -Happiness brings out all that is best in a man. He -forgot all his doubts of Malcolm Mackinnon, all his secret -and open blame of him, and he was able even to bury his -anger against him for his treatment of Isla as he stretched -his hand across the table to grasp Malcolm's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind, old chap. The luck will turn. It's -bound to sooner or later, you know. No man goes -through the hards from first to last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose most men get the luck they deserve," he -said a little heavily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Later, these words recurred with poignancy to -Drummond's mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They smoked another pipe of peace together in the den -afterwards, and about half-past three Drummond took -his horse once more and rode through the fine powder of -the newly-fallen snow towards the home that was now -illumined by so many stars of promise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange restlessness was upon Malcolm Mackinnon -when he was left alone, and, after a little deliberation, -he took to his horse--the poor common cob that had so -often filled Drummond with compassion for the man who -had to mount it--and rode slowly down Glenogle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though not bred in any of the glens, the cob had -learned the way to Achree and needed no guiding when -he came to the gate. Achree, with the delicate powder -of the snow lying upon it and lightly touching the -exquisite tracery of the trees, was a dream-place that -looked the fit cradle for a thousand lovely hopes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm took his horse to the stables, and when he -presented himself at the door asked for Mrs. Rodney -Payne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has gone to the village, to the post, sir," the man -answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This information caused Malcolm to turn about and -walk away without another word. What he had to -say were perhaps better said in the open, where none -could hear and where there would be room to breathe -and to think. He had a die to cast that day which -would make or mar the rest of his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was below the Darrach Brig he met Vivien walking -alone with step a little fleet, the snow sprinkled over her -long coat and lightly powdering her beautiful hair. She -was pleased to see him, but her colour did not rise, nor -were there about her any of the signs the impatient lover -can interpret to his own joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was the lure of Vivien. She was so still, like -the waters of Loch Earn on the quiet autumn days or in -the hush of the early morning when the dawn was -waking upon its breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not a day for you to be out in. We are going -to have a great storm. At Creagh, Diarmid predicts the -drift of the year. You must be more careful of yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I love it!" she cried, her eyes lighting up. -"There is something ethereal in it all. I should like to -walk on and on in it to the limit of the world. Have -you been at the house, and is there nobody at home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I asked only for you," he made answer, greatly daring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But still the clear paleness of her face had no touch of -flame upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had Drummond to lunch. Perhaps you met him? -He went down the Glen in front of me. I didn't ride -with him, because I couldn't pit my sorry old hack -against his fine bit of horse-flesh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He does have lovely horses, and he loves them--and -don't they know it!" said Vivien musingly. "Even a -horse thrives best in an atmosphere of appreciation and -of kindly care."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that's a true word, Mrs. Payne. May I tell you -about Drummond and what was his business with me -to-day? It was a bit of family business, but I hope you -will do me the honour to be interested in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely, if you care to tell me I shall be interested," -she answered without a moment's hesitation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know, of course, that he has just come back -from Nice?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew he had gone anyhow, because Sadie has had -budgets from Kitty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you know, too, that my sister is there with Lady -Betty Neil?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she answered quietly, "I knew that, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is going to marry Drummond," said Malcolm -then, not looking at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It did not occur to him that she could have any acute -personal interest in the news. As for Rosmead, in his -absence he had in more senses than one dropped out of -the count.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is going to marry Neil Drummond!" said -Vivien after a while, and her voice was a little faint as -if the news staggered her. "How very extraordinary -and unexpected!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you say that?" he asked anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, because, somehow, one never expected to hear -that in this world. Did you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wasn't surprised. He has been in love with her -since they were children. He told me he had asked her -six times last year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Vivien with a little gasp. "Then one -can only hope that they will be very happy," she added, -as if recovering herself by an effort of the will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But her reception of the news was all very half-hearted, -and Malcolm was deeply disappointed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you would be pleased."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am, if you are. I suppose you would like -Mr. Drummond for a brother-in-law."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drummond is a very good sort. But what chiefly -pleases me is that Isla will have a proper home at -Garrion and the position she ought to have. It's a fine -old place, and Drummond will be a rich man one day -when Lady Betty Neil is done with her money. She is to -give them ten thousand pounds as a wedding present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'The Ancestor' has come up to expectation," said -Vivien with a little smile. "Have you heard from your -sister? Is she very happy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't heard from her," he answered lamely. -"I'll be writing this evening. May I send her a message -from you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you like. But I shall write myself--unless she is -coming home soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is unlikely. Drummond talks of a marriage at -the Scotch church at Nice. In that case I, of course, -would have to go there. But nothing can be arranged -till I have heard from Isla."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you feel a little sore because she did not write -to tell you herself?" asked Vivien straightly and in a -puzzled voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The relations between Mackinnon and his sister had -always puzzled and saddened Vivien, and in her heart -of hearts she had sometimes blamed Isla. At other -times, recalling the glimpse of the real woman she had -obtained on that never-to-be-forgotten day at the Lodge -of Creagh, she wondered whether there was not -something in the background which, if known, would have -explained everything and justified Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you see, we are not a writing family, and I was -so long abroad that we got a little out of touch," said -Malcolm lamely again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vivien was fully conscious that there was evasion in -the answer, but it was not her business to probe into -depths with which she had no personal concern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quite suddenly Malcolm stood still on the road and -looked at her straightly with a kind of dull fire in his -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vivien, I must speak! I haven't the right, for there -is very little I have to offer you. But I love you as my -own soul--no, as some higher thing, for my soul is a poor -thing to mate with yours. Will you--will you--be my -wife?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had often anticipated this hour and had conned in -secret the phrases in which he would plead with this -woman for his very life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all the fine, set phrases fell away from him and -left him bare, so that he could only blurt out his immense -desire in words that had no grace of diction to commend -them. Yet they were warmed by an honest passion, and -they reached the heart of the woman to whom they were -spoken and awoke some response in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she put up her hand as if she would ward off that -which she feared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't!" she said rather brokenly. "I don't want -to hear it. I--I am afraid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Afraid of what?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And a new-born tenderness enveloped him and lifted -him up from base depths to the full height of the -manhood that ought to have been his had he not trailed his -heritage in the dust. "Not afraid of me, my--my--darling?" -he said, and it was as if the torrent was let loose. -"Listen. This once will I speak, and then be silent, if -you bid me, for ever. I am not worthy of you. No man -could be--but I am less worthy than most. Yet if you -would stoop and give the chance to prove what a man -might be and could be for your sake I should worship you -to the last day of my life and make your happiness, and -that only, my chiefest care. For God's sake, don't send -me away! At least give me a crumb of comfort. If I -had but known there was a woman like you somewhere -in the world--my God, if I had only known!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The anguish of his voice appealed to the very woman -in her, and, though her face was very white, she stretched -out a trembling hand and touched his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't speak like that. It--it hurts me," she said, and -her whole body seemed to quiver as if all the springs of -being were stirred. "You have never heard my story. -You can't know that I, too, have been down in the -depths. I have suffered all, I think, that a woman -can suffer. And now, I am afraid! It is--it is so terrible -a thing when one is bound and there is no hope."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all she could permit herself to say, but the -unstudied intensity of her words was more self-revealing -than any deliberate account of her unhappy married life -could have been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm stood awed before it, and knew for the first -time in his life what a white thing the soul of a good -woman can be, and how great are the sufferings that can -rend it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in that moment he knew that he had not the right -to take her life into his; that there were no floods deep -enough to wash him clean enough to mate with this -woman who had been down in the depths--and who knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you see I am so afraid! I could not live -through it a second time. I don't know you well. And -I am afraid! Let us put it away now, and let us be -friends, as we have been."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It can't be," said Malcolm simply. "If that is your -final answer, I will go away out of the Glen and never set -foot in it again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but that would be terrible! It is I who can go, -for what does it matter where I live now? This is your -place. These are your people. You can't leave them. -You ought to be proud that you were born here and that -Achree is yours. It is a place that grows into one's heart. -I love it more than any place I have ever seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then keep it, stay in it! Come to me, Vivien, and -bless it and me," he said, moved to an eloquence which -amazed even himself. "I make no pretensions. I have -not been what a man should be. But there is nothing I -would not try to be and to do for your sake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shivered slightly, but there was wavering in her -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I vowed I would never marry again. I have been -often asked," she said simply. "But I have always given -the same answer. It is a little harder to-day--that is all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She suffered her eyes to meet his, and the next moment -his arms were round about her, and he knew that he had -won.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a strange wooing, and when Vivien crept back -to the house, knowing that she had pledged herself to -another venture on the sea of matrimony, her eyes had -unfathomed depths in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet when she went to her mother's side she said never -a word about her own story, but with a little accent of -sad wonder in her voice asked, "Mother, Isla Mackinnon -is going to marry Drummond of Garrion and who is going -to tell Peter?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-call"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE CALL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Isla Mackinnon was sitting in the stone balustrade of the -loggia in front of Lady Betty's villa at Nice, reading a -letter that had been written three days before in the -small hours of the morning at the Lodge of Creagh in -Glenogle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sun was upon her hair and on her face, but her -eyes were full of a wide and mute astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty, attending to her own voluminous -correspondence at the ormolu desk which stood across the -open window of the drawing-room, saw that expression -and wondered at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now a fortnight since Neil Drummond had left -Nice, carrying Isla's promise with him, and this was -Malcolm's first letter. It had cost him much travail, -and as Isla read it through she felt its note of sincerity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare say you have heard from Drummond about -his visit to me the other day. I have tried to write lots -of times, but I haven't got the gift of the pen and I -found it difficult to get words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, I am glad, Isla, for Drummond is a ripping -good chap and his prospects are rather splendid. You -who are living with Lady Betty know what sort of fairy -godmother she is to them. What I like best of all to -think of is you as mistress at Garrion with plenty of -money at your command. It will suit you down to the -ground. There is no doubt that, as a family, we -Mackinnons have been cursed through lack of money. It is -easy to be good when one has plenty and nothing to -worry about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have waited, half hoping you would write first. -But as you haven't, will you take this letter as an -expression of my affectionate good will? We haven't -quite understood each other up till now, but things are -going to be better in future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I also have a bit of news for you, and I am wondering -whether or not it will be a great surprise. Vivien -Rosmead has promised to marry me, and we are not -going to wait long--only until her brother comes home, -which may be any day now. The last letters say that -the initial difficulties of his bridge-building have been -overcome and that he can be spared--at least for a few -weeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hardly know how or what to write about this, Isla, -because it is a thing that a man has a natural diffidence -in speaking of. You know what Vivien is--how good, -how far above me. I will try honestly to be worthy of -her. I think I have convinced her of my sincerity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course she has a large private fortune, which will -lift all the burdens off the old place and make it possible -for us to start the new life unencumbered. The luck of -the Mackinnons has turned at last and, after all our -troubles, we may surely look forward to a little run of -prosperity and peace. I hope you'll write to Vivien, -even if you don't to me. I'm sure she expects it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla dropped the sheet on her lap, and her eyes swept -the blue line of the sea a little wildly. The colour -which the soft southern air and the restful life had -wooed back to her face receded and left it a little grey. -The old terror, the vague, haunting dread crept over -her once more, and so insistent was it that she could -not push it away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had the luck of the Mackinnons really turned? She -was pledged to marry Neil Drummond, perhaps in two -months' time, and there was not an atom of joyful -anticipation in her heart. Malcolm was engaged to -Vivien Rosmead, and what would be the end?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the whole of Malcolm's letter there was not one -reference to the past. She knew him too well to hope -for a moment that he had laid it bare to Vivien -Rosmead--nay, rather was she certain that he had trusted -to luck. The purple lady!--the vision of her arose -before Isla's eyes and shut out the incomparable view of -the terraced garden, the blossoming trees, the wide blue -sweep of the southern sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A quick tap on the window pane attracted her attention, -and, looking up, she beheld Lady Betty beckoning -to her sharply. She rose slowly, picked up the -letter, and went in through the open window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What ails ye, lass?" asked the old lady brusquely. -"You look as if ye had the wail of the pibroch in your -ears."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've had a letter from Malcolm, Lady Betty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well? And is he ill pleased about you and Neil?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no. He tells me he is engaged to Mrs. Rodney -Payne. I want to go home, Lady Betty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty sat back in her chair, set her eyeglass -more firmly on her aristocratic old nose, and looked Isla -straight in the face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for do ye want to go home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I could tell you I would," she answered simply. -"You have the gift, and you know that when the call -comes one does not question, but just rises up to obey. -That is how it is with me. The Glen is calling me. -There is something for me to do at the Lodge of Creagh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla spoke quite quietly, and the old lady neither flouted -nor rebuked her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very unfortunate. Do you know that every day -for the next month is filled up? And you have been -such a success here and so many wish to know you that -we need not have an idle hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall have to go," was all that Isla said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what will become of me? What will be the end -of it? I have the house till Easter. Will you come back -after you have answered the call? Neil could bring you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't promise anything," answered Isla. "Will you -mind very much if I go to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty did mind, but she knew that to throw -obstacles in the way was useless. She might delay Isla's -departure, but she could not altogether prevent it. -Besides, there was the call. When it came clear and swift, -as it had done to Isla, everything else had to give way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would travel by yourself? You are not afraid?" -she said kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am afraid of nothing, dear Lady Betty, but the -forces that work in the dark--the things we can't grapple -with."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty once or twice slowly inclined her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand. Well, then, make your arrangements. -The train-de-luxe to-night, I suppose, and London the -day after to-morrow? Oh, Isla, ye mind me on nothing -but a petrel that has no rest night or day from the storm. -God go with ye, my dear, and at the long last give ye -peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words were very solemnly, very tenderly spoken, -and Isla with a swift movement knelt beside the old lady's -chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dearest Lady Betty! How can I thank you? I -won't even try. You know--don't you?--oh, you must -know how full my heart is!----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Betty dropped her fine white hand with its -sparkling rings on the girl's bent head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know nothing but good of you, Isla Mackinnon, and -I love ye as ye were my own. But, oh, lass, my heart is -heavy, and I would fain rise up and away to the hills -with ye! My one consolation is that you are going back -to Neil. I will wire to him this evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, don't, dear Lady Betty. It would be certain to -bring him to London. I want no one to meet me there. -If I have to sleep the night I will go to Agnes Fraser's. -I--I would rather be alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then something smote hard and cold on Lady Betty's -heart, and she knew by the inward vision of her soul that -the thing on which she had built high her pride and her -hope would never take place. She did not know what -was going to happen to prevent it, but she felt that Neil's -cause was lost from that hour!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She suffered no depression to manifest itself, however. -She undertook to still Kitty's garrulous questioning, and -she herself saw Isla off at the station by the night train. -But she did not close an eye all that night, being -haunted by a sense of the futility of earthly planning -and of the vanity of human hopes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla arrived at Charing Cross Station at five o'clock in -the afternoon of one of the loveliest of spring days. By -that time she had a quite clear idea of what she wished -to do. Speaking of it afterwards, she declared that each -step of the way seemed to have been planned out for her, -leaving her in no doubt whatever about the next.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had her luggage transferred to the Charing Cross -Hotel, engaged a room for the night, and, having enjoyed -a very excellent cup of tea, sallied forth to take an -omnibus for the West End.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those weeks spent under Agnes Fraser's roof, and the -long days she had utilized in traversing the length and -breadth of London in search of impossible employment, -had given her an intimate knowledge of the best and -quickest and most economical means of transit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on a pleasant spring evening the omnibus was the -most enjoyable. She had bought a copy of the -"Morning Post" at the station, and she unfolded it in -her seat with a view to taking a glance through the -pages. There two items of intelligence which were of -the deepest interest to her met her eyes. The first was -purely personal and occurred a little way down the page, -below the Court Circular.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A marriage has been arranged, and will take place -before the end of the season, between Malcolm John -Mackinnon, Esq. of Achree and Glenogle, and -Mrs. Rodney Payne of Carleton, Virginia, and 31 Avenue -Castellare, Champs Elysees, Paris."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her face flushed as she read these significant words -and for the moment she felt as if all her fellow-travellers -had read them with her and were aware of their -meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat a long time pondering, surprised beyond -measure at the announcement, which seemed premature. -She wondered who was responsible for its appearance, -but decided that it was probably Malcolm who had sent -it to the newspaper for the purpose of establishing his -credit and consolidating his position. As yet Isla was -disposed to be hard on him and to credit him with -merely sordid motives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Turning over the page she discovered the second item -of intelligence, which riveted her attention immediately -and sent her thoughts flying in another direction. It -was under the heading of Wills and Bequests, and -merely stated that the will of Mrs. Jane Bodley-Chard -had been proved at seventy-five thousand pounds, the -greater part of which passed to her husband, who was -her sole executor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the time Isla had come out of the reverie induced -by the reading of these paragraphs the omnibus had -rolled her to her destination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She alighted at the Marble Arch, crossed the way, and -proceeded quickly along the Edgeware Road until she -reached the end of the street where she had first seen -Malcolm with the purple lady. She had not made a -note of the address, but she remembered it vividly, and -she made no mistake about the number.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her slightly hesitating ring was answered by a person -who seemed to be a charwoman, and who, in reply to -her inquiry for Mrs. Bisley, shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She ain't 'ere, Miss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But can't you tell me where she is, or at least how -long she has been gone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she ain't bin gone long--only since this mornin'. -Are you a friend of 'ers?" she asked, peering rather -inquisitively into Isla's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At least I can claim to know her, and I particularly -wished to see her to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you carn't. She's gone to Scotland. She was -orful upset this mornin' by sumfink she saw in the -papers, and she went orf all of a 'eap, like, not even -takin' proper luggage wiv 'er. Said she didn't know -w'en she'd be back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla turned away, so sick at heart that her dismay -was visible on her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know nothink, but it's got summat to do wiv -that military gent. she knew in India. A toff, 'e was, -and she expected to marry 'im, don't you see? And -'e'es given 'er the slip--leastways that's wot I think. -But, of course, I don't know nothink for certing, and -you needn't say as I said anythink. I didn't hev no call -fer to say anythink, reely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla thanked her and turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was just one day too late. What could she do -now? Even if she were to hasten by the night train to -Glenogle, what could she do there? A meeting between -Vivien and this woman seemed inevitable. At least -Malcolm would have to explain his position and, if -possible, justify himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just for one brief moment she regretted having acted -on the swift impulse to leave the pleasant sanctuary -she had found by the Mediterranean Sea. What good -had she done, or could she do? She had only once -more committed the mistake of thinking that she could -arbitrate in the destiny of others--she, who had so -sadly mismanaged her own!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She crept dejectedly along the street, still clutching -the paper in her hand, and when she reached the wider -thoroughfare crossed it in a slanting direction and, as if -through force of habit, turned in at Cromer Street and -made her way to Agnes Fraser's familiar door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the busiest hour of that good woman's day, -because her first floor came in to dinner at half-past -seven and it was now half-past six. But when she heard -who it was that had asked for her she ran up the kitchen -stairs, several steps at a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Miss Isla, excuse my apron and the flour on my -hands. But I couldna wait. I'm terribly busy jist for -a meenit or twa. Can you come in and wait till I get -the denners fairly on the road? It'll no tak' me mair nor -a quarter o' an 'oor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't wait, dear woman--at least not now. I -didn't mean to see you to-night, really, but I had business -in this neighbourhood, and I just ran in for a look at -you. I shall be in Glenogle to-morrow night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Agnes breathlessly. "And it is true that -ye are going to marry Mr. Drummond? I've aye been -expeckin' to hear from yoursel' aboot it. But Elspeth -Maclure says that it's quite true and that everybody is -pleased I am, I'm sure. I jist sat doon and had a guid -greet when Elspeth's letter cam'. And Andra lauched -at me and said it wasna a thing to greet ower. But that -wass hoo I felt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla nodded, and her proud mouth trembled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're lookin' fine--quite like yersel'," resumed -Agnes. "And when is it to be, Miss Isla? Oh, hang -their denners! Come in here and let me hear ye speak."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Isla, laughing a little hysterically, shook her -head, and began to move towards the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was very bad of me not to write, but I've been -passing through all sorts of phases, Agnes, and even now -I don't know quite where I am. When I get home I'll -sit down and write you a very long letter. Have you -seen the 'Morning Post' to-day with the announcement -of my brother's engagement to Mrs. Rodney Payne?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but that news was in Elspeth's letter, too, and -so Achree is on the mend again, thank God. Are ye -awa'? Oh, I am sorry, Miss Isla! I would have liked -to keep you for the nicht. Can ye not come back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to-night. But probably I shall be in London -again soon. Good night, dear soul, and thank you very -much. Whatever the future may hold for me, Agnes -Fraser will have a warm place in it. I hope that some -day I shall be able to thank you properly for all you did -for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes was able to give only a very divided attention -to the cooking when she returned to the gloom of her -underground kitchen, while Isla rode back the way she -had come, singularly out of love with life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had done no good by her impetuous journey--none -at all. She was half minded to take the night -mail to Calais again and throw herself once more on the -tender mercies of Lady Betty. Her uppermost feeling -was one of shrinking from Glenogle and all that might -happen there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dusk was falling when she got down at Trafalgar -Square, where she crossed to the hotel entrance at -Charing Cross. It is always busy there, arrivals and -departures taking place at all hours of the day and -night. A four-wheeler, piled high with luggage, stood -before the door, and a tall man in a long travelling-coat -with a fur collar was directing the hotel porter what he -wished to be done with the larger boxes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned his head as Isla was about to pass in, and -he found herself face to face with Peter Rosmead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a supreme moment for them both. All Rosmead's -heart leaped to his eyes, he dropped his dispatch-case, -and grasped both her hands while his gaze covered -her with an overmastering and encompassing tenderness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is a bit of God's own luck!" he said, and his -voice was thick with the passion of his soul. "How -is it you are here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came from Nice only to-day. I am going home -to Glenogle to-morrow," she answered, and her voice had -a faint, far-away sound in it, as if she suddenly felt very -tired. "And you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just arrived by the Norddeutscher-Lloyd steamer at -Southampton at noon to-day. Are you here alone for -the night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She inclined her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's God's own luck," he repeated. "You'll dine with -me, then--in half an hour or an hour, or at any time -that you choose to name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated just a moment. Should she refuse? -But why? In another day it would be all over. Only -the present hour was hers. She nodded and sped from -him quickly, ascending to her room on the third floor -by the lift.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she entered it she turned the key and looked -round a little wildly, working her hands in front of her -nervously. Then, with a sob, she threw herself face -downwards on the bed and buried her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wanted to weep, but a song was in her heart, -because, though she was pledged to marry Neil -Drummond and was bound to him by every tie of gratitude -and honour, she belonged to Peter Rosmead and he to -her, and nothing could alter it. For the moment she, -who had had so little of the joy of life, gave herself up -to the vision of the might-have-been. And it was so -glorious that it transformed the bleak hotel bedroom -into a heavenly place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a long time, when she had risen and was making -her toilet, there came a quick tap at the door. When -she opened it a chambermaid stood without, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, Miss, can I help you? The gentleman is -waiting, and dinner is served in eighty-nine."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="with-hastening-feet"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">WITH HASTENING FEET</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Because this was her hour and to-morrow all would be -over, Isla did not disdain a woman's art. She wished to -look beautiful for once in the eyes of the man who loved -her, even though she should henceforth disappear from -them for ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put on a wonderful frock that had come from the -hands of a clever </span><em class="italics">couturière</em><span> at Nice--a simple black -thing, fashioned with such consummate art that it -seemed moulded to her figure, showing all its grace. -As Riviera fashion dictates, it was high to the neck, -with a yoke of clear net through which her white skin -shone, while a string of pearls about her stately throat -made her sole adornment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Miss, you do look nice!" said the chambermaid -as she stepped back from fastening the skirt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla smiled into her eyes. Then she asked where she -could find eighty-nine. The girl took her down to the -next floor and to the door of the room where Rosmead, -in evening dress, was waiting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," he said with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew her in, and the door was shut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The warmth of the cheerful fire and the fragrance of -flowers met her on the threshold of the private room, -where Rosmead had ordered the meal to be served. -This was no night for them to dine in a public -restaurant--they must be immune from prying eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't look so tired now! And to think I was -cursing the luck that would keep me here for another -twenty-four hours! I have an appointment at the -Colonial Office to-morrow and can't go north till Friday. -But I never in my wildest dreams anticipated this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled as she took the chair he offered. Her eyes -had a far-away look, her cheeks were softly flushed, she -seemed like a dream-woman, and she was so beautiful -that Rosmead blamed himself that the vision of her he -had carried with him so long had fallen so far short of -the reality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The waiter came in with the soup presently and -waited upon them deftly. But Isla ate little. While -the small, daintily-appointed, and exquisite meal was -being served they talked of commonplace things--of the -Riviera in the season, of Rosmead's business in America, -of the bridge whose foundations had taken so long to lay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it is accomplished, isn't it?" she asked with -her swift glance across the table. "Of course I always -knew it would be. I remember that you said that in -your estimation difficulties existed only to be -demolished."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was a very high and mighty utterance," said -Rosmead a little shyly. "But this time I thought I -was going to get beaten. Do you know that I left the -very day after the thing had passed the bar of my own -judgment, just five days after the other experts had -pronounced it unassailable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You always trust yourself last?" she said inquiringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is I who have to pay the price of failure, and so -I leave nothing to chance," he answered. "Will you -take nothing to drink? I am a teetotaller myself. -Some day I will tell you why. But you are tired, and -wine will do you good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. It is delightful to think that one can dine -without it. I do believe that you are the first man I -have ever met who could."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, come!" said Rosmead, laughing. "Where I -come from there are many."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla laughed a little and shrugged her shoulders. She -was feeling so warm and comforted and happy that she -wished the hour to last for ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How kind of you to think of this room! As I was -dressing I thought how horrid it would be in the -restaurant to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew it would be. I grudged it. This was the -thing," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And his pulses thrilled as he thought of all the days -that were coming when they should dine together alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came to an end at last, and Rosmead showed haste -in getting the table cleared and the coffee-tray brought -in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he wheeled a big easy chair towards the fire for -her, and he himself stood against the end of the -mantel-shelf, while an odd silence fell between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure you want to smoke. I should like it," -she said a little nervously, fearing what she saw in his -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would be desecration. By and by, perhaps, -but not yet. I wonder if you know just what it meant -to me to see you to-night downstairs, just what it means -to have you here like this, alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made no answer, and the veil dropped over her -eyes, but her lips trembled, and she worked with her -fingers in the fringes of the delicate white scarf which -had fallen from her shoulders across her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must know that I love you," he said. Then -in a low voice which vibrated keenly with intense -feeling he added, "I have lived for this hour during -all these interminable months. I have risen up each new -day, thinking it brought me a day nearer to it and to -you. I know all you have suffered. Let me try to -make you forget. Give your precious life into my -keeping, Isla. You are the only woman I have ever -cared for. The knowledge that you were waiting -somewhere for me has kept me a boy in heart for your sake. -Will you give yourself to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was terror, anguish, hopelessness in her eyes. -She gave a small shuddering sigh and buried her face -in her hands. Instantly he was on his knees beside -her, trying with a very gentle force to take her hands -away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly she drew back, rose to her feet, and faced -him--very pale, very stricken, but wholly calm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, please don't say any more. I--I must not -listen. It was even wicked of me to come here when I -knew--when I knew--and even hoped that you would -speak. I--I am not free. I am the promised wife of -another man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead's face became set like a stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you are the woman God has given to me," he -said quietly. "Who is the man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neil Drummond," she answered feverishly. "Don't -look at me like that! Let me sit down again, and you -stand where you were before and I will tell you how it -came about. You said that you knew all I have -suffered. But you don't. I want to tell you everything. -Then you will understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He obeyed her to the letter, and with the breadth of -the hearth between them she began her recital.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went back a long way, even to the days of her -troubled girlhood, keeping nothing back, telling him in -simple language all the story of her life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All unconscious was she of its complete self-revelation. -Peter Rosmead, listening, with only a brief word interjected -here and there, was filled with a pity so vast that -he did not know how to contain himself. He saw this -young woman-creature, at the time when she ought to -have been enjoying girlhood, doing not only a woman's -work in the world but also forced to act the man's part--to -face abnormal difficulties, to solve the problems of -existence in loneliness and without help.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when she came to the end and related simply, -yet with a sort of bald power, the story of her London -experiences, he could bear no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God, Isla, you must cease! I tell you I can't -hear any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must," she said clearly, "because this is the -part which explains--which explains--why I am not free. -You see, I had got so very tired and hopeless, and my -money was all done, and I had no more heart left to -fight. And just then Neil Drummond came, and he was -like a brother to me, and--and he had loved me all my -life, and I thought I, too, could care a little, and that we -might be happy together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his hand up to his forehead with a sudden -gesture and kept it there until he felt the flash of Isla's -mournful reproach on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only you had written a single line!" she said -almost piteously. "If I had ever known or guessed that -you remembered my existence I could have held out. -But I was so tired, so tired!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She who had been strong so long, whom trouble had -never daunted, gave way before the insistent clamour of -her woman's heart. For the moment she could not -forgo the real heritage of her womanhood--could not -make the final renunciation. For she was not old yet, -and life can be very long to the sad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead was as one who took swift and decisive -counsel with himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lifted a chair to the hearth in front of her and sat -down so that he could the better see her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen to me, my dear," he said in his quiet, -compelling voice. "We must face this thing together, try -to grasp exactly what it means, and decide what is -to be done. Let us do it quietly, try to deal with it as -if we were not the chief actors in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla sat back and folded her hands on her lap. She -was willing to listen--nay, listen she must. And, -somehow, she did not seem to care. She had rolled -away the stone from the door of her heart. Peter -Rosmead knew that she loved him, just as she knew -that he loved her. Well, he was strong and good, he -would decide and act for her. Hence the peace upon -her face, at which Rosmead, himself torn with conflict, -wondered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does not mean only a disappointment to me--a -lifelong disappointment, the overthrow of everything -that I have been waiting for," he began slowly. "It -means the shipwreck of three lives. If you don't care -for Drummond how can you be a good wife to him or -make him happy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are many women who are married to men they -do not care very much for. I have seen them, and they -seem to get along," was all she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What other women might do with impunity you -couldn't. You are the soul of truth, and, moreover, you -cannot hide what you think and feel. If you could have -done it better, dear woman, life might perhaps have -been a little less hard for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But after a while," she said in a low voice, "it -might be possible. I should try very hard. And, after -all, it is not happiness we are here for. One has only -to look around to see how very little of it there is in -this world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By heaven, Isla, I can't accept that--no, I can't! -God means us to be happy. It is what He has created -us for. Only we do wrong things. It is we who make -the shipwreck, and I believe that if you go on with this -marriage you will ruin three lives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She only shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Drummond the man--do you think?--to be contented -with what you purpose to give him--wifely duty, -without wifely love?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is very good," she said wearily. "His kindness -and his patience never fail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That may be true. But afterwards would come -the crucial test. You can't do it, Isla--you can't! -There is--there must be a way out, and we must find it -together. Will you leave it to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll leave everything! I am so tired! I can do -nothing more. But I will be true to Neil Drummond. -I may tell him, but I will keep my promise if he holds -me to it, and if you will let me go now I will say good -night. It is nearly ten o'clock. I have been travelling -for two days, and I feel as if I could not bear any -more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He instantly forgot his own sore disappointment and -was concerned only for her with that great and tender -concern which belongs to the strong and which the tired -woman felt so perilously sweet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just a moment; what about to-morrow? Can't you -wait until Friday? If I could get away I would travel -with you to-morrow, but it is impossible to do so without -giving offence in quarters where it is important not to -give offence. Will you wait till Friday? You are not -fit to travel alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up at him, and her eyes wavered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to, but I can't stay here. Let us meet -in the morning and decide. At least, I need not travel -until the two o'clock train."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He suffered her to go then, merely touching her hand -at parting, because of the barrier that was between.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead had boasted that difficulties in his way -existed only for the purpose of being demolished, but -he was now in front of one that taxed his boasted -powers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla slept the dreamless sleep of complete exhaustion, -but he fought with the problem the night through, and -in the morning he was no nearer its solution. They did -not meet at breakfast, but at ten o'clock she sent him a -message that she would see him in the drawing-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She met him, tranquil and calm-eyed, a little pale, -but without trace of stress or strain. Rosmead himself -had a slightly haggard look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning," she said quietly. "I think I shall -wait until to-morrow. To-day I shall go back to my old -quarters in Cromer Street, Bayswater, and I shall meet -you to-morrow at the station."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And am I not to see you to-day at all?" he asked, -and his eyes travelled hungrily over her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think so. If there is any more to be said -there will be time to say it to-morrow. You will help -me to do the right thing, won't you? It is--it is what -I look for in you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words were a rebuke to Peter Rosmead, but he -took it well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do the right thing--yes," he answered humbly, -"but only until we get back to Glenogle. Then, I warn -you, I'm going to fight for you with all the powers I -possess. I don't know how it is going to be done, but -win you I shall. You have not come into my life only -to go out of it again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled as she turned away, and a strange, deep -contentment, gathered in her eyes. She asked no -questions, troubled herself not at all about what was -coming. So far as she was concerned the fight was over, -and the issue lay with Peter Rosmead. Her trust in -him was so large and fine a thing that she was content -to leave herself and her cause in his strong, tender -hands and to let him undertake for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They parted then, and they met no more until they -entered the train together at Euston next morning. But -during the hours of that interminable day there was no -sense of distance or of separation between them. The -same sky covered them, they breathed the same air, -they were within call of each other; it sufficed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rosmead went early to the station, and he had made -his full arrangements for Isla's comfort by the time she -arrived. She smiled when she saw a first-class -compartment marked "reserved," but she made neither -remark nor demur. She had left him to legislate for her -and would not cavil at trifles. That she was happy for -the moment there was no need to ask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Many times that day when Rosmead looked at her -dear face he registered a mighty vow that the man did -not live who would be able to keep her from him. -Drummond must take his defeat like a man. He was -young, and there were others to choose from. In all his -life Rosmead had not, until now, met a woman who -could stir his pulses or make him long to lay his freedom -at her feet as a thing for which he had no further use.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The train glided out of the station, and the sunshine -was upon their faces and in their hearts. Rosmead, an -accomplished traveller, had left nothing undone to -secure the comfort of his fellow-traveller, but all -his love and care were powerless to save her from the -last bomb flung by fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not care for papers, she said, but she begged -him to look at his, while she watched the swift retreat -of London roofs before the speeding train.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He unfolded the pages of the "Daily Telegraph," and -had Isla happened to glance round at the moment she -must have discovered that something fresh and terrible -had happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the first page this paragraph confronted Rosmead's -eyes under large head-lines:--</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"TRAGEDY IN SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"A sad occurrence took place yesterday on Loch Earn -in Western Perthshire--one of those deplorable accidents -which show what care should be taken in handling small -boats on these treacherous inland seas. Full particulars -are not to hand, but it seems that late last evening -Mr. Malcolm Mackinnon of Achree and Glenogle, who had -been in Lochearnhead earlier in the day, left there, -ostensibly to go to his home at the Lodge of Creagh, four -miles distant. That he had not done so was clearly -evidenced by the fact that his body was found by a -boatman, washed up on the shores of Loch Earn at a -point about two miles from its head. The boat, bottom -upwards, was floating near. The day had been one of -the very stormiest of the season, with blinding showers and -a squally wind. Mr. Mackinnon was a skilled oarsman, -but it is supposed that he had been caught by one of -the sudden squalls which so frequently rise on these -Highland lochs and constitute a danger that it is -necessary to guard against. It is not known why -Mr. Mackinnon should have gone on the loch late in the -afternoon, and he had no fishing gear with him. The -occurrence has cast a gloom over the whole Glen, where -the family are so well known and so beloved. The -tragedy is accentuated by the fact that Mr. Mackinnon -had only recently become engaged to Mrs. Rodney Payne, -whose family are the present tenants of Achree. We -understand that Mr. Mackinnon's only sister is at present -abroad. Much sympathy is felt and expressed for her."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Rosmead, with the paper held high in front of him. -stared steadily at it, his face very white and set, his lips -twitching. It was a full minute before he obtained -complete control of himself and dared to glance over the -edge of the paper at his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she apparently had forgotten him. Her chin was -resting on her hand, and her eyes were fixed upon the -landscape, bathed in sunshine, which was speeding past -them. She did not even look round when he carefully -folded the paper and put it well under his travelling-rug -in the tar corner of the rack. Then he lifted the -"Times" and glanced through it, only to find on the -second page the same item of intelligence considerably -condensed. That also he removed, and took up one of -the magazines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was totally unaware that he was holding it upside -down. He had to find some way out of this awful -difficulty--to coin words which would acquaint Isla with -what seemed to be the final tragedy of her life. He was -scarcely alive to the fact that he now learned for the -first time of Mackinnon's engagement to Vivien, the -letter informing him of it having only reached America -the day after he had left it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had concern only for one at the moment, and his -sole consideration was how to break the news to her. -One moment he thought of giving her the newspaper -casually, and thus getting over it; the next he thought -he would keep it from her to the last moment. But -they were speeding towards Glenogle, where the last act -of Malcolm Mackinnon's tragic life had been played.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Isla turned to him with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very pleasant to be going home, don't you think? -I was just counting how many weeks I had been out of -Glenogle and thinking how glad I shall be to see it again. -When I left it I never thought I should wish to come -back any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad you feel like that," he said with an odd -note of strain in his voice. "I have ordered the car to -meet us at Stirling, so that we shall get home ahead of -the train."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes sparkled with a child-like enjoyment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that will be delightful! I wrote to Malcolm -yesterday. He will probably be waiting at Lochearnhead -Station. I must wire to him at Crewe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll see to it," said Rosmead heavily, and his tongue -felt as if it were cleaving to the roof of his mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her to lunch, and she enjoyed it all, though -it concerned her that he ate so little. She was not -troubling herself that the other matter seemed to have -disappeared into the background, and that he made not -the smallest allusion to it. She was grateful to him for -his consideration, but she was not surprised. From -Peter Rosmead she would expect only the best. He -would neither say nor do that which would vex the -heart of a woman or increase by a hairsbreadth her -perplexities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, she had made no mistake! she thought as she -glanced confidently across at his grave, strong face, -when she left him to act for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After carefully observing that the papers were out of -the way, he got out at Crewe and made his way hastily -to the telegraph office to send an explanatory message -to his mother. By that time he had arrived at a quite -clear estimate of what was in front and at a decision as -to the right thing to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would tell Isla after they were in the car, and -prepare her as best he might for what she had to meet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was spared the need. All his carefully concerted -plan for saving her was rendered unavailing by the shrill -tones of a newsboy's voice. The passing of the smallest -coin of the realm in exchange for the first edition of an -evening paper, and Rosmead got back to the compartment -to discover that Isla knew the truth.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-last-leaf-on-the-tree"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE LAST LEAF ON THE TREE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Once more the burying-place of the Mackinnons in -Balquhidder kirkyard was opened to receive a Laird of -Achree. While a small band of mourners stood by it in -the soft spring sunshine Isla sat with her Aunt Jean in -the library of the Lodge of Creagh, staring in front of -her with a far-away expression on her face. Lady -Mackinnon, who had not yet recovered from the effects of -the hurried journey from Barras, was talking in subdued -tones about the future. But Isla heard her as she heard -her not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you will just come to Barras, my dear, and -we'll do our best. It is a very fortunate thing that the -Rosmeads have Achree for another year and more. It -will give us time to turn round. Don't look like that, -Isla. It is all very terrible, of course, but it is not the -end of everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment there was a tap at the door, and Diarmid's -grey head appeared, his lace looking old and worn, -his eyes tired with weeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, Miss Isla, it's a leddy. She will not go away, -whatefer, and I have putten her in the little pack room -till I ask whether you will see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, of course not. I will," said Lady Mackinnon, -bustling up. "A lady! Don't you know her, Diarmid? -Hasn't she given you a name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my Leddy, I don't ken her. She's frem to -Glenogle, and she says Miss Isla would not ken her name, -forby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla was already at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Aunt Jean. Thank you very much, but I must -see her. I think I know who it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rather disappointed--for anything would have served -to break the dreary monotony of this awful house--Lady -Mackinnon sank back into her chair, but a moment after, -acting on a sudden impulse, she rose and swiftly drew -up the blind. She then saw that a hired trap was -waiting outside the gate, the man nodding on the -box-seat, while the reins lay loosely across the horse's -neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew nothing of the tragedy at the back of -Malcolm's life, and, though it had been more than -whispered in the Glen that there had been no accident -on Loch Earn, but that Mackinnon had gone forth, -meaning to take his own life in the way that seemed -easiest and would occasion least remark, these rumours -had not been permitted to reach Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Isla, in her heart, had knowledge and confirmation -of these things, though she had not heard of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How surprised, then, would Lady Mackinnon have -been could she have heard what passed in the little -room behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla entered quietly, closed the door, and faced the -woman with whom she had already spoken twice and -who, in some strange way, was mixed up with the -tragedy of Malcolm's life and death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not surprised to see me, I can see," she -said without preliminary. "Did you know I was in -Scotland?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered Isla clearly. "Please to sit down -and tell me all that you wish to tell me and that it is -necessary I should hear. But first, let me ask one -question--Are you, were you, my brother's wife?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ought to have been, but I wasn't. That was the -beginning and the end of the trouble. I waited for him -so long, and he promised me faithful and true that if -I would only wait quietly till he got out of his sea of -troubles he would marry me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand," said Isla rather faintly. "Please say -no more now, but tell me as quickly as you can what -you know about it all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither sat down. Isla stood by the table with her -white, frail hand on the red baize of the tablecover, her -shadowed eyes looking forth with a strange sad pity on -the woman's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All her high colour had faded, her eyes were dimmed -with weeping, she had forgotten to take a pride in her -beautiful hair, she looked what she was--a dishevelled -and broken creature on whom even a hard heart must -needs have had compassion. And Isla's heart was not -hard any more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you see, Miss Mackinnon," she said, wiping -her eyes with her sodden handkerchief, "you don't want -to hear the whole story as to how we got to know each -other in India and how fond he was of me and I of him. -So I'll hurry on to where I met you first. I came to -Scotland then, because he hadn't written to me for such -a long time and because, when I learned that his father -had died and that he had come into the property, I -thought it was time I looked after myself. He spoke -very fair then--explained how hard up he was and what -a tangle everything was in, and he promised that if only -I'd wait other six months he'd make everything straight -and right. He told me all that right down by the water -at Strathyre that night when he rode down from here to -see me--the night before you and I met on the London -train. Well, I went back to London, because he asked -me to trust him a little longer. But I was not very easy -in my mind. I kept quiet, living on my little bit of -money and doing a bit of needlework and going out -occasionally with a friend, but never forgetting that -some day I was to be lady here and wife to the man I -loved. Then I saw the thing in the paper--that he was -going to marry the American woman, and I think that -I went mad for a bit. I don't know quite where I was -or what I did. I only know that I rose and went to -Scotland straight to the hotel at Lochearnhead, and in -the afternoon I walked up to Achree and asked for -Mrs. Rodney Payne."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Isla with a little gasp, and she pressed -her hand to her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You feel for her. Perhaps she's a friend of yours, -but it had to be done. You don't know what it is to see -another woman get hold of the man you care for and -who belongs to you. I like you, and I pray God you may -never know what it's like. Well, I told her just the -whole story--the story I haven't told you, though you're -sharp enough and can fill it all up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did she say?--not much, but I could see that -it finished him in that quarter, which was all I cared -about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then I sent for him. When he came he -had seen her. I could tell it by the white despair on -his face, and then I knew that it was not her money he -wanted at all, but that he cared about her as he had -never cared about me, that she was his own kind--the -sort that would lift him right up and make the best of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something seemed to snap inside of me. I believe -it was my heart that broke. I didn't reproach him. He -did all the reproaching--there, in the dark, by that -God-forsaken loch. We seemed to walk for hours, and I -don't know where we were when he left me. He said -his life was over, but I never thought or believed he -would take it away. To tell you the truth, Miss, I didn't -believe he had the courage to do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You think he did it, then?" said Isla in a low, tense -whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it. He simply went out in that boat, never -meaning to come back. You and I know it, but we -needn't tell. And anyway, perhaps it's better; only -I wish it had been me--I wish it had been me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice broke into a little wail, and she covered her -face with her hands. Isla went to her side and laid her -hand, which trembled very much, on her shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very sorry for you. If I knew how to help or -comfort you I would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She caught Isla's hand, laid her cheek a moment -against it, and then began to walk unsteadily towards -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a good woman--one of the best," she said, -pausing a moment. "I hope you'll be happy yet. You'll -never hear of me again. I'm going away to-night back -to my own place. But I thought I'd like to see you -before I went and tell you the truth. Good-bye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even after Isla's hand was on the door she -lingered, as if something still remained unsaid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When you see her tell her that I loved him and that -I could never have been so hard on him as she was. If -he had really cared, tell her, she would have forgiven -even me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hush!" cried Isla in distress. "You don't know -all she has suffered. But it is no good to talk. Life is -an awful thing. Thank you for coming. I shall often -think of you, and, though I have no right, for I, too, have -been hard, I'll--I'll pray for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A kiss passed between them, and they parted--never -to meet again in this world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla went through the house and out by the kitchen -door to the hill beyond. She was so long gone that when -she came back the Garrion carriage was at the door, and -Sir Tom with Neil Drummond was in the drawing-room -with her aunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's face went a little white when she saw Neil, and -she stood by the tea table with her back to him for a -moment. Even Sir Tom's genial personality could not -relieve the great strain. When Isla after a time, in -response to a certain question in Drummond's eyes, left -the room with him, Sir Tom turned eagerly to his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must positively get away in the morning, Jean. -Another day in this house would finish me. There seems -to be a curse on Achree. Have you spoken to Isla, and -is she going back with us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. She hardly speaks at all, but of course -she must go. There isn't anything else to do, and the -sooner Neil Drummond follows her and we have a quiet -wedding at Barras the better it will be. It is the only -solution of the problem of Isla's life. I'm more tired of -that problem than of anything else in this world, Tom."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took a turn across the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The American chap was at the funeral. There's -something uncommon taking about him. He and -Drummond were talking together for a good half-hour -after we had left the churchyard, and, judging from their -faces, I'm sure it was some matter in which they had -a life-and-death interest that they were talking about. -Then Drummond, looking a little white about the gills, -came up to me and said he was coming over to see Isla, -and asked if I would drive with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was quite natural for him to come and see Isla, of -course, and probably he was only discussing the situation -with Mr. Rosmead. Neil will have to act for Isla now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Mackinnon had very little imagination, but Sir -Tom was not easy in his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla went out of doors with Neil Drummond, and they -climbed up the slope to the edge of the Moor, and there -they stood still. They were very near the house, but -nobody could see them, and Isla waited--for what she -did not know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've seen Rosmead, Isla. I suppose the thing he has -told me is true?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he tell you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That you and he--that you and he care for each -other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that is true. But I will keep my promise to -you, Neil. A little suffering more or less--what does it -matter? There is nothing else in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled a little hardly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've cared a long time, and a lot, Isla. But I haven't -sunk so low----" he made answer. "I give you back -your freedom."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But even if you do, it does not follow that I will -marry him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you care about him it is what you must do," he -said quietly. "Tell me, Isla--Are you sure about this? -If I thought there was any chance I wouldn't give you -up. Are you sure?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was silent for a moment, her unfathomable eyes -following the flight of a wild bird on the wing until it -was lost in illimitable distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neil Drummond had no great gifts. He was only a -simple, honest soul who did his duty according to his -lights, but in that moment he tasted to the full at once -the anguish and the high joy of renunciation. Such -clear understanding of a woman's heart came to him -that for a moment he forgot the intolerable ache of his -own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's gaze came back and fell upon his face as she -answered simply, "I am sure. I would follow him to the -end of the world without a question or a doubt, and I -would not have a wish apart from his will. That is how -I care, Neil. If I could feel like that for you I would -give the best years of my life. I didn't seek this thing," -she went on when he made no answer. "It came to me, -and I think when it is like that we----we cannot help -ourselves, Neil. It is part of the mystery of life. I am -so tired with it all that I would wish to-day that I could -lie down in Balquhidder beside them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your life is only beginning," he said slowly and with -difficulty. "I will say good-bye, and I will ask you to -believe that there is nothing in the world I want so much -as your happiness. You have had none, and, though I -am not the man who can give it to you, I ask you to take -it--and to take it soon--from the man who can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus did Neil Drummond, a commonplace, everyday -man such as we meet so often upon the highway, rise to -the height of renunciation and prove himself a hero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla's eyes swam in a strange tenderness as she turned -to him, trying to thank him. But even while she would -have spoken he had left her, and soon she heard the -rumble of the wheels on the road--the wheels which -took him back to Garrion--never more, in obedience to a -lover's quest, to speed across the rough road to the Moor -of Creagh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a time Isla went back very quietly and soberly -to the house to astonish her relatives by another vagary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am ready to go to Barras to-morrow, Aunt Jean, -and to stop as long as you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will Neil come with us or after us, my dear?" -asked Lady Mackinnon, her shrewd eyes lighting up -cheerfully. "You know there is room and to spare in -the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Aunt Jean, Neil will not come. I am not going -to marry him now--nor any man," she answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she sped away to make her preparations for the -journey which, an hour before, she thought nothing on -earth would induce her to undertake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange peace seemed to brood that night upon the -Lodge of Creagh and the Moor of Silence. Sleep was -very far from Isla's eyes as she sat before her -uncurtained window, looking out upon the limitless space on -which the white moonlight lay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The end of all things had come, so far as human -judgment could determine. The last Mackinnon of -Achree slept with his forefathers, and she, a poor weak -woman of no account, was left to tie up the broken -threads. Her thoughts of Malcolm were very tender, -nor had she any misgiving, thinking of where he might be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is better to fall into the hands of the living God -than into the hands of men," she might have said, had -she been called upon for an expression of her state of -mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon her knees, with her chin upon the sill of the -open window and her eyes upon the great silence where -the moonlight lay, she asked to be forgiven for her -hardness of heart, for her swift condemnation, for her -poor, puny, disastrous efforts to set the world right. -She knew now, in that moment of clear vision, that no -man or woman is called to so great a task, but that -what is asked of us all is merely and only the simple -performance of each day's homely duty, by the doing of -which, nevertheless, the whole fabric of human life and -human achievement is ennobled and perfected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With her chin resting upon the window-sill and her -eyes, uplifted to the kindly, but impenetrable skies, -Isla prayed. And then, leaving herself and her destiny -for ever in the Hand which alone is capable of unravelling -and setting in fair order human affairs, she crept to her -bed to sleep off the overwhelming fatigue of the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning there were many leave-takings in the -Lodge of Creagh, and Diarmid and Margaret, whom the -sorrows of their folk had drawn together in a touching -unity, stood side by side on the step to watch Isla drive -away with her uncle and aunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young, small, frail woman, to whom their fealty -was still due and who represented all that was left of -the Glenogle Mackinnons, waved to them smilingly, -bidding them be of good cheer until she should come back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when the last bend of the road was taken and the -rumble of the departing wheels had died upon the air, -the two old servants looked at each other a little pitifully, -while tears rose in Margaret's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She nefer will come pack, Diarmid, and you and me -maype will grow old man and woman here in Creagh till -they come to lay us in Balquhidder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Diarmid answered never a word, but, later in the day, -he delivered himself to Rosmead, who came on the swift -feet of impatience to seek Isla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She hass gone away, sir, to Barras with Sir Thomas -Mackinnon and his leddy, but whether it pe a long time -or a short time afore she comes back I am not able to -say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Barras!" said Rosmead with musing in his eyes. -"Tell me how she is, Diarmid. Did she seem sad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so fery sad, considering sir," answered Diarmid, -compelled, he knew not why, to lay bare his innermost -thought to the man before him. "Me and Marget stood -here, watchin' them, and she smiled as she went, and -her face seemed to shine. But it iss a fery peetifu' -thing, Maister Rosmead, for me and Marget to ken -that soon the Mackinnons will be swept from the Glen, -root and branch, and their fery name forgot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As long as she lives, Diarmid, that can never be," -said Rosmead with the conviction of a man who knew. -"Good-day, my man. Keep up your heart. There are -new days coming for Achree and the name you love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before he turned away from the Lodge of Creagh, -Rosmead climbed to the edge of the Moor of Silence and -stood still for a moment on the very spot, though he -knew it not, where Isla had stood with Neil Drummond -but yesterday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From where he stood he commanded a vast view, the -Moor behind and beyond, and the winding road down -Glenogle, with all the little hills huddling on its flanks, -and widening out to the glory of Loch Earn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Achree he could not see, but his eyes, as they ranged -towards it, were filled with that vast tenderness which -proclaims that the deeps of being are stirred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Isla had gone away without message or sign, but that -neither grieved nor troubled him. Some day, from out -the silence, the sign would come, or he would himself -know the day and the hour of her need of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as he turned, with the westering light upon his -face, he made his vow that if God should give him a son, -Donald Rosmead Mackinnon he should be called, so that -the name should not die for ever out of Glenogle and the -Moor of Silence.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Novels and Stories by</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">ANNIE S. 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